Let's Change (ENG)
by KaelatOTP
Summary: Mr. Cat and Kaeloo are disunited after an umpteenth argument. However, when an unexpected event hits one of them, the four friends realize that their daily routines in Smileyland aren't as secure as they thought. To combat the pain which is afflicting them, they have to look deep into their souls... and change.
1. Prologue

–

 **TRANSLATION MADE BY :** _ **RandomnessUnlimited,**_ **thanks to him/her !**

Here is the English Version guys ! The chapter 2 and 3's translation will come soon. I hope that you'll appreciate the effort put into it !

Also, thank you for all your reviews on the french version. You're wonderful, I love you !

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– But Mr. Cat… Ursula's right. If cats can see in the dark, does that mean you can too? asked Kaeloo, with more surprise than she would have liked.

– Of course! I don't miss a beat! Anyway, I'm watching you... with insistence... he said in a joyous tone of voice while slowly advancing towards Kaeloo, who was starting to get worried.

– Uh, yeah, yeah... hehe, can you stop now, please ? she said, backing away at the same pace with which he approached her.

– Oh, you like that, tadpole? You like being watched like this, huh?

– What do you mean, Mr. Cat?! I don't like this at all! Not at all, not at all, not at all!

– Your cheeks tell me otherwise, froggy.

Indeed, the blush that had spread across the frog's green face at the moment was so bright that it could have lit up the room without much difficulty. Not only were cats intelligent, but they had to be able to see in the dark too. Seriously, who gave nature that option? And most of all, why did Mr. Cat have to be given a double dose of it?

Kaeloo didn't know where to go anymore - how could she, when she couldn't even see her little webbed feet? The irony! She was the one who had proposed the game so that Stumpy could get over his fear, and here she was playing the opposite role! The worst part wasn't the darkness itself, but rather, the indiscreet watch of her friend who deliberately followed her around. Although it was dark, she could vaguely make out his red eyes moving up and down, staring at her with a fixed gaze, which made her highly uncomfortable. She blindly took one step, two steps, and many more, while the cat had no problems following her in the dark. The horror! She started to flee, letting out anguished screams as she saw his amused eyes approaching her, occasionally mumbling "Stop it, Mr. Cat!"

It was stupid to try to escape him when he could see where she was going better than she could, but Kaeloo didn't even worry about which direction she was going in, or even the possibility that she might fall off a nearby cliff - and if that happened, Mr. Cat probably wouldn't catch her, or at least that's what she thought. All that mattered to her was putting as much distance as possible between herself and that oppressing stare, and finding the rope as soon as possible to restore the light to Smileyland! Only, to restore the light, she needed to find the rope - which served as a switch - and to find it in such a dark place... she needed light! Kaeloo sighed, an annoyed look on her face, and stopped her frenetic race against Mr. Cat's stare for a few seconds. Wow, that was a really effective deduction! She could have applauded herself if she wasn't so busy trying to –

– Boo.

– AAAH! screamed Kaeloo, backing into the cold metal fridge behind her.

– Mwahaha! laughed Mr. Cat,as his eyes, which wouldn't stop staring at Kaeloo, shone with malice and mockery. The situation seemed to amuse him more than anything.

– Mr. Cat! This isn't funny! she scolded, hearing his sinister laugh.

''Argh, he can be so annoying! He's annoying me!" she thought to herself. She saw him approach a little more, and realized with horror that there was no escape. She instinctively turned her head away and closed her eyes, but reopened them after feeling something pressing against her skin...

Did he just kiss her on the cheek?!

–Mr. Cat?! W-W-What are you doing?! she said, holding onto the fridge as tightly as possible, looking upset, while her face reddened and her heart began to beat rapidly. She saw him turn his head and heard him click his tongue.

– Let me correct you : why didn't you transform when I kissed you? That's what you should be asking, he said, pointing a finger at her, not embarrassed by his gesture in the slightest.

Kaeloo widened her eyes, momentarily forgetting her unease. Usually, when Mr. Cat made advances like this, which she found disrespectful and mocking, she immediately transformed into Bad Kaeloo to reckon with him! Like that one time when they played a game of house and he wanted to do naughty things with her near the end of the game. Even worse, she didn't want to transform. Why was that? Why? Mr. Cat was right to ask her. And the fact that she didn't want to transform worried her as much as the fact that it amused Mr. Cat.

– W-Well, that's no reason! she stammered.

– That's no reason! he said, imitating her in a ridiculous voice, before laughing. Then he followed up, in a more suave tone. Just say you appreciated it, froggy.

– That's not true! Anyway, don't ever do that again, Mr. Cat! It's very - very, uh, impolite... to kiss people... like that! Her voice had gradually lost its self-assurance as she uttered those words. Now, not only was her face expressing embarrassment, but confusion as well, as though she hadn't been able to believe her own words!

– What do you mean, froggy? Do you prefer other forms of intimacy?

'' What is he talking about? Why is he talking like this? Argh, he's annoying me!" she thought.

– Mr. Cat! What do you mean by that?! she said, indignantly.

– Relax, froggy, relax! he said, rolling his eyes. It's not like you didn't understand what my gesture meant, r-right? You understood, didn't you...heh ? he asked in a hopeful tone of voice. Kaeloo raised an eyebrow. She could have sworn that she heard him stammer, and maybe even saw him blush, as he spoke.

– If this is another one of your naughty games, Mr. Cat, I demand that you stop it immediately !

– But-

– No, no, no! I can't hear you! Kaeloo put her fingers in her non-existent ears, determined not to hear him.

And then she saw it. The saddened look in the cat's eyes. Silence ensued. A silence that was far from pleasant. She saw his mood switch instantly from amusement to anger... and disappointment.

– Yeah... it's always like that, anyway, he sadly mumbled.

– Like what? she said, intrigued.

She pulled her fingers out of her ears. Suddenly, without warning, Mr. Cat exploded.

– It's always like this with you! Every time I pour my heart out to you, every time I try to confess to you, you push me away and take it for a fucking game! You claim to be the most sincere and understanding of the gang, but you've never been that way with me! When I try to make you see how I feel about you, you think I'm kidding and you go your way, or in the best case, you transform and beat me up! Even nutcracker is better understood than I am!

– Mr. Cat! Don't use bad words! she replied, as if that was the only thing she had retained.

– I don't believe it... Did you at least hear what I said? he asked, disheartened.

– Uh, no...? But - Anyway! Everything you say is stupid ! All that just to make me get mad, argh, I can't believe it !

There was complete silence after this. Kaeloo was surprised that Mr. Cat did not reply. He regained his breath while she lost hers. The only thing uniting them in this almost religious silence was the confusion on both of their faces. Finally, the feline spoke.

– I... Never mind, froggy, you'll never understand. I'm used to this, anyway, he said in a quiet voice, with his eyes partially closed, as though he already regretted what he just said.

At this exact moment, Kaeloo felt a pricking sensation inside her heart and was starting to find it difficult to breathe. Mr. Cat looked back a second and final time, and prepared to leave. There was a dejected expression on his face and his body slouched. As he walked away from Kaeloo, with each step he took, the pricking in her heart started to feel more like she was being stabbed.


	2. What You Are

–

 **TRANSLATION MADE BY :** _ **Randomness Unlimited.**_

– What's wrong with this stupid rope? Why isn't it lighting up? Skblblbl!

– Quack!

– How do you expect me to calm down, Quack Quack?! It's dark! And since Ursula isn't with me anymore, it freaks me out! IT FREAKS ME OUT! Skblblbl - Kaeloo?  
Stumpy anxiously called out his friend's name, while holding onto Quack Quack fearfully.

– Hey, Kaeloo! Where did she go? Why isn't she answering? What if she got eaten by the monsters? Or worse, what if she took advantage of the darkness so that she could laze around? She abandoned us here! What do we do? WHAT DO WE DO?! yelled Stumpy as he fell to his knees, extending his arms upwards and looking to the sky as if expecting an answer.

– Quack, repeated Quack Quack, in his strange duck language, before starting to project light from his eyes. Stumpy got up and ran to his friend.

– Yes! We're saved! Thanks, pal! he said, laughing.

He slapped his friend on the back, not knowing that doing so would cause the lights to go out. Stumpy continued to scream : '' HUH ? OH NOOO !"

– Shut up, squirrel-face... said a weak voice from just behind him.

– AAAH! Stumpy screamed in a ridiculously high pitched voice before realizing who it was. Mr. Cat? Where are you? Hey, Mr. Cat!

– Shut your trap, I'm right behind you.

– Oh, you scared me! But - What are you doing here !? And what happened to your voice? Did your vocal cords get sucked out by those fridge monsters? I knew it! I knew it! That'll teach you to listen to m- ow!

Mr. Cat had whacked him on the head with a mallet to stop his raving. Just then, the lights came back on.

– C-Cooool! said Stumpy with some difficulty as he tried to lift his thumb. His face had been smashed in by the mallet.

– Quack! rejoiced Quack Quack, and he ran off somewhere and came back a few seconds later with a stash of yogurt in his arms. He pulled the mallet off of Stumpy's head, sat down next to him and started to eat the yogurt.

Stumpy shook his head to recover from the shock and turned to face Mr. Cat. The feline was sitting on the ground near his cat flap, with his arms and tail wrapped around his legs and his head buried in his knees. Anger, sadness and confusion were visible on his face. His whiskers were pushed back against his cheeks and his ears were lying flat. It was rare to see Mr. Cat in this condition.

– Wow, you look pretty bad, Mr. Cat! It sounds like you've got love problems! he educed, before letting out one of his signature idiotic laughs. So, how did she leave you ?

The cat's heart skipped a beat. How did he know? Had he been spying on them? Had he heard them?

– Who do you mean by 'she', nutcracker?! demanded the cat, pulling a bazooka out of nowhere and pointing it at the squirrel.

Stumpy was unfazed; Mr. Cat wouldn't shoot him, he knew he wasn't indestructible like Quack Quack.

– Well, your girlfriend! I mean, your ex! I don't know who it is, but she must be really hot if you're making a face like that, hahaha – !

The feline growled and his face darkened. Stumpy gulped and threw his hands in the air, starting to question his assurance - after all, Mr. Cat could do anything! He had already injured him several times - this time was not to be excluded - but contrary to his expectations, nothing happened. He lowered his arms, incredulous that the cat hadn't done anything. It was like he was deflating – he breathed out, emptying the air from his chest, his back slouched, and his eyes, which normally glinted with anger, looked dull and gloomy.

Something was definitely wrong.

– Uh, you know, Mr. Cat, there's a lot of hot girls on Fakebook... like Ursula, for example! said the squirrel, getting excited as he thought of his girlfriend, who had just left a few minutes ago. She had taken the time to come visit him, and they had spent a little time together before she had to leave so as to not worry her father.

– Never mind, nutcracker…  
Stumpy's smile disappeared as soon as he heard his friend.

– Quack? exclaimed Quack Quack, who had miraculously stopped his abusive consumption of yogurt, seeing the depressed cat return to his cat flap. As the flap slammed shut, a wind blew, similar to the ones in cowboy movies.

– Okayyyyyyy... said Stumpy, looking annoyed. He turned to Quack Quack. Mr. Cat's been acting really weird since the lights came back on!

– Quack?

– You think? I don't think so, bacause cats don't really like darkness, Ursula told me so! She told me she hates darkness because she can't see my beautiful face! said Stumpy in a dreamy voice, with hearts appearing from nowhere and circling around his head.

Quack Quack didn't reply. He stood there for a few minutes, with his usual indifferent facial expression, and then he shrugged and continued to eat his yogurt.

– Oh, buddies! There you are!

– Oh, hey Kaeloo! Nice to see you back in the light! exclaimed Stumpy, who had picked up his video game console.

– Sorry I'm late, I had to ask Mr. Director from the management to install a new rope so we could turn the lights back on.

– Yeah, yeah, you did well, said Stumpy, clearly disinterested, before suddenly raising his head. Actually, Kaeloo...

– Yes? she asked, taking a seat by his side. Do you know what's wrong with Mr. Cat? He seems upset today.

 _Mr. Cat_. Kaeloo felt her throat go dry. She coughed.

– Uh, no? Why, Stumpy? she asked in the most candid tone she could muster.

– Well, he was all sad and weird, and since you two were the last to join us, I thought you might have had something to do with it.

– Oh, you know him, he's always like that...

Stumpy looked at her suspiciously, while his brain - at least, the one neuron which actually worked - decided that Kaeloo was right. He had seen Mr. Cat have sudden mood swings without any apparent reason, and today was not the day they'd understand - or try to understand - his behavior. He probably wouldn't say anything anyway, in order to keep things mysterious. Stumpy returned to playing his video game, oblivious to the saddened expression on Kaeloo's face.

Twilight colors filled the sky as the buddies decided to go home, feeling tired. The experience which they had in the darkness had been fun for some of them, like Stumpy, and exhausting for others, who it would be pointless to name. Speaking of those two, what were they doing?

Mr. Cat had locked himself inside his cat flap for the rest of the day. Nobody had seen him since the lights came back on, and nobody had the guts to ask him what had happened - it would have been useless. They all knew that he was in a pretty bad condition, and they thought he would be in one of his usual bad moods. As for Kaeloo, she stayed with her other friends for a while after the game. She wanted to play a game to forget about what had happened, but unfortunately for her, she couldn't; Quack Quack, as usual, was too busy eating yogurt, and Stumpy, unchangeable, was focused on pulverizing his digital enemies, saying : "I've got a boss to annihilate, I can't play with you!". Kaeloo had no choice but to go back to her lilypad house, disappointed that she hadn't been able to do anything with her day. She took a relaxing shower, and then she made some coffee. While waiting for the coffee to be ready, she spent some time looking out of the window. Once it was ready, she drank it and then lay down on the bed.

As soon as her back touched the soft white sheets,a sigh escaped her lips. She spread her arms and legs out like a starfish and exhaled deeply. Her body was immobile, like a statue, but her thoughts, on the other hand, wouldn't stop moving. They were quick, like a sprinter, and fleeting, like the flapping of the wings of a butterfly. It could be said that these thoughts, in their frantic race, were looking for some kind of memory. And they didn't need to look (or flap their little wings) much to find one. The memory imposed itself, redundant, serious, tedious and painful: Mr. Cat.

Suddenly, Kaeloo felt a weight pressing on her body, numbing her legs, crushing her stomach and preventing her from breathing. It was as if she was being forced to perform a task which was unpleasant but necessary - that is, reconciling with him. But what was the problem which captivated her thoughts so much?

 _Mr. Cat liked her._ That could be it. But no, that wasn't the problem. The concern, important it seemed, was in the type of questions which naturally followed a love confession: "Do I feel passionate about him? Do I like him in the same way, or do I just see him as a friend?"

There were lots of factors which needed to be considered. On one hand, Kaeloo found it difficult to let go of the idea that she, Stumpy, Quack Quack and Mr. Cat were a group of friends. _Friends._ If one of them decided to go out with another, it could damage the chemistry of their friendship. Mr. Cat and Kaeloo would most likely start to show a certain favoritism towards each other, and this could form a breach in their relationships with Stumpy and Quack Quack. Kaeloo and Mr. Cat had only two solutions, which were equally difficult : friendship, meaning they would have to break up in order to restore the former balance within the group, or love, which could harm their friendship. This may have seemed exaggerated, because they could live out their love without damaging their friendship, but they would be under constant pressure to make sure that they could balance both of the things.

And as for the main question - whether Kaeloo saw Mr. Cat as more than just a friend - she herself did not know the answer. Mr. Cat's implicit confession had sparked an ineffaceable doubt which would not stop anchoring itself in her thoughts, thought after thought, minute after minute. Certainly, she could not deny the continued existence of some teasing between them - teasing which we could qualify as ambiguity, but for her, this had always stayed within the domain of "games". For example, the time they played baby-sitting, or better, the day they had played at the end of the world. The words he had said that day were still etched in her mind: " I've had a crush on you since the beginning. I think of you, day and night."  
A mysteriously pleasant thrill passed through her, but she paid no attention to it.

Kaeloo had never taken Mr. Cat's confessions seriously. Why? For three very simple reasons: The first one was that if one day someone told her that Stumpy had a crush on her, she could have believed it, but Mr. Cat? Frankly, she would have laughed in the face of the person speaking to her. Secondly, the reason why she would have laughed at this person : she and Mr. Cat were total opposites! To her, the idea that a "bad boy" like Mr. Cat would try to get a girl like her, a saint who loved everything and everyone, seemed utterly ridiculous. She didn't really believe in the phrase "opposites attract".

Thirdly : did she only see him as a friend?

Hontesly : A friend ? Yes, but not just _any_ friend. If you asked her to describe her relationships with each of her friends, she would say that the friendship she shared with Stumpy and Quack Quack would characterize her as a maternal figure, who advised them, guided them and occasionally scolded them –after all, they were the youngest of the group, and they needed direction, especially Stumpy. But Mr. Cat was older than her and ten times more mature than she was. Saying that she was a maternal figure to him seemed like a bad joke, or an obvious lie. You could say, without beating around the bush, that their relationship was the most complex in Smileyland. Even their friends, as well as their neighbors, Pretty, Eugly and Olaf, would agree.

To give yourself an idea of this complexity, put yourself in the shoes of a new arrival to Smileyland, and imagine witnessing this scene: Mr. Cat doing everything he can to provoke Kaeloo and push her to show her schizophrenic side, and then getting beaten up by her. Two people doing things like that to each other with so much harshness and violence, that couldn't be friendly play, right? However, if you spent some more time with them, you would observe some things which proved you wrong, through simple gestures between them: the way she laughed at his jokes, the way he smiled when she yelled at him, the way she invited him to play with her despite knowing his intentions, and the way they put themselves in the same team. You might even start to ask yourself whether they were in love. You would notice the look Mr. Cat shot at the figure of the toad, the way Kaeloo intruded Mr. Cat's personal space and tried to get physically close to him, the teasing advances he made towards her (which she thought was a game), and the possessiveness they showed of each other. It was a fine mess. Actually, it may have seemed like they were messing with the general public, but they didn't do it on purpose. They themselves were not aware of their strange attraction, camouflaged under several quarrels that were only revealing a feeling more powerful than anything.

But let us refrain from giving a name to this sentiment, lest it be an incorrect perception, and let us pass over these prodigious proofs of a truth which only time can establish. And above all, let's try to keep these observations to ourselves, and come back to the present moment.

Kaeloo let out such a long sigh that she felt her lungs compress due to the lack of air. Suddenly, she got up, stretched her legs a bit and then staggered towards the door. What was she going to do? Visit Mr. Cat to set things straight. And how was she going to set things straight? She didn't really know, she only had a vague idea –and it doesn't matter for her, as long as Mr. Cat forgive her and save her from the weight on her conscience. Yes, it may have seemed selfish and hypocritical, but what Kaeloo wanted most of all was to be forgiven so she wouldn't have to think about this anymore. She already had enough problems with the cat: she already had to monitor his alcoholism and the murderous impulses which he expressed on Quack Quack! And let's not forget the problems she had with her other friends: Quack Quack's yogurt addiction, and Stumpy's unhealthy obsession with video games. And then there was her own schizophrenia, or double personality. She had plenty of things to do.

Kaeloo went outside her lily and headed towards Mr. Cat's cat flap. It wasn't very far, which was a good thing, because she was quite tired. She felt the biting evening cold against her bare skin, but she didn't care. The problem would be over in a few minutes. She arrived in front of the cat flap and knocked three times. No answer. She tried again, thinking he couldn't hear her. Three minutes passed and still nothing happened. Kaeloo frowned. She knew Mr. Cat didn't like visitors, but usually he would at least check who was knocking! "Maybe he's sleeping," she thought. She checked her watch, which said that it was exactly 8:00 p.m. Her theory couldn't be right. The cat usually spent sleepless nights drinking, resulting in him having a hangover in the morning and taking naps throughout the day.

She gave a sigh of annoyance, her anxiety at not knowing what to say being replaced by impatience. Her skin was starting to turn blue from the cold. Maybe he had drunk too much and wasn't in a condition where he could answer the door ? If that was the case, she would have to forcibly enter and help him. She hadn't come here to take care of him - the opposite, in fact - but they were friends, after all. She had to make sure he didn't do anything stupid while he was drunk. She cleared her throat.

– Mr. Cat, I'm coming in! she yelled. She waited for some kind of objection, but didn't get any one. So she opened the flap, bent over just enough to be able to fit inside, climbed in and closed it behind her.

However, Kaeloo had forgotten one thing, and she remembered it a bit too late: it was naturally dark inside the cat flap. Being a cat, Mr. Cat didn't need light to see, and besides, he used it as a bedroom more than anything else. She stepped into the total darkness and unsuspected calm of the place. The silence bothered her more than anything else. It was so quiet that she couldn't even hear her own footsteps. She started to tremble slightly and crossed her arms in front of her chest, fearing that the cat may jump out of nowhere and attack her. After all, she was in the house of one of Smileyland's most insane residents. He'd even attempted to rape her a few times (like when they played baby-sitting or when they played house), so she expected the worst.

– M-Mr. Cat? This isn't funny! Please answer me!

She silently continued walking down what seemed to be a long hallway until she noticed a faint glow coming from her left. She sighed in relief, glad to have found a source of light in this tomb-like place. She ran towards it, her footsteps echoing through the hall. When she reached the illuminated room, she stopped at the doorway and let her wary gaze wander over the surroundings. It was a very ordinary living room. There was a shelf with books piled up on it, a red armchair whose disrepair was covered with a checkered cloth, an old television, a wooden coffee table in the middle and a brown carpet on the floor. The room was lit by chandeliers, and extravagant paintings were hung on the beige walls. There were also several cushions spread all over the floor. At the end of the room was a little open kitchen, next to a round table with a nice red tablecloth. Kaeloo smiled and took a few steps inside. Put at ease by the almost familial nature of the room, she unfolded her arms. It was simple, but charming. She would never have thought that the cat would have tastes like this. The room looked very colorful and happy, contrasting with the personality of its inhabitant.

– What are you doing in my house?!

Speaking of the devil.

For a second, Kaeloo was startled to hear such a loud voice and nearly banged her head on the door. She turned around and raised an eyebrow as soon as she saw Mr. Cat. He looked awful; his eyes were narrowed and bloodshot, and his whiskers were twisted and tangled. Kaeloo looked downwards and saw an empty bottle in his hand. She crossed her arms, and without answering his question, she started to scold him.

– Mr. Cat, you haven't been drinking in moder-

– Are you deaf? WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?

Kaeloo took a step back, shocked by her friend's tone of voice. Sure, he was usually in a bad mood when he drank - except for a few occasions - but that didn't justify him talking to her like that. What did he take her for?

– I see you're not only deaf, but mute too.

– I'm here to talk to you, she said with a calm voice, ignoring his bad temper.

– There's nothing to talk about, get lost!

 _Excuse me ?_ Where did he get the guts to speak to her like that?

– I forbid you from speaking to me in that tone of voice, Mr Cat !

– Oh, of course, you're the only one who can't allow it!

– I beg your pardon?! I've never disrespected you, unlike you, who does it to me all the time!

– Are you fucking kidding me?! You did it earlier!

– What?

– Stop acting like you didn't do anything! You pretended you couldn't hear me!

– Well-

She stopped in the middle of her sentence, not knowing what to say. It was true that Mr. Cat had been trying to tell her something earlier, but she had ignored it and focused on the one bad word he had said in the middle.

– This ironically reminds me of another moment... he said as his previously loud voice started to break. It reminded him of the first time they played "Red Light, Green Light"... he had complimented her, and she had beaten him up for using a minor swear word during his speech.

A certain silence hovered between them, a silence with clear discomfort. Kaeloo broke the ice by changing the subject.

– Whatever it is, I'm here to apologize for hurting you, she said in a serious tone, waiting for him to forgive her for everything.

Even a "Go away" would satisfy her, as it would free her from this charged atmosphere and from the guilt. But alas, the cat's response was anything but what she wanted it to be. Raucous laughter, laced with bitterness, sarcasm and an imperceptible sadness, echoed through the room. She stared at him as he closed his eyes and lifted his head, caught in his contrite laugh, and could only grind her teeth at the malice and rancor in it. However, there was a gloom in his eyes, a sadness reciprocal to hers. When he stopped laughing and opened his eyes again, he glanced at her from head to toe with a disgusted look, and then looked her in the eye. The shiver that passed through the frog's body almost made her legs give out.

– Oh, you never fail to amuse me.

Second shiver felt. Umpteenth heartbeat skipped.

– You come to my house, like this, you park myself in the middle of my living room, you talk to me in your shitty little condescending voice and... and you think I'm going to say 'Of course, I forgive you!', he said, imitating her in a ridiculously happy tone before putting on another glower. You keep thinking I'm screwing with you since I'm the 'tough guy' of the gang, nothing can get to me, I'm immune to any form of pain and anyway I can just shake it all off, right? I thought I once heard you say that I had a hidden side that was vulnerable and sensitive? What do you think I am, a punching bag? A pain in the ass who you'd like to get rid of, given the chance? One person too many in this country?

– No, I don't think-

– Then why do you think that apologizing with just one word for everything you've done to me will make everything right between us, you piece of shit? That just means that you consider me to be a lesser being!

Kaeloo's eyes stung dangerously.

– NO!

0 Yes! Yes, that's what you think! Sometimes I wonder whether you even consider me as a friend, or you're just waiting for the day when I decide to free myself from your beatings and leave Smileyland! You hurt me, you say sorry, and that's it! Everything's forgotten, bye-bye, go fuck yourself, Mr. Cat!

– SHUT UP! What you're saying now is total-

– Bullshit? he sneered bitterly. Heh… surprisingly, when I try to be sincere with you three, especially you, you think I'm screwing with you.

...

– No, wait, he said in a strangely calm, cold tone of voice. What am I talking about? You don't give a crap about all this. All you want is to have a clean conscience, be a plaster saint and look good in front of the others. You know my family was abusive and that my older brothers used to hurt me a lot, and I have psychological issues as a result. The day I told you about my past, I thought you would finally understand what I was looking for: just a little bit of love and affection, after a really hard life... but no, you just used it as a pretext to label me as 'Smileyland's resident psychopathic jerk'".

...

– You don't assume that your real personality is that of the toad's, in fact.

Kaeloo's pupils shrunk, becoming two tiny dots in a blank white space.

– Yeah, that fucking toad who you spend thousands of dollars every year trying to deal with at your therapist's? Speaking of your shrink, has he told you what you really are yet or is he still hiding it from you so he doesn't scare you?

A new silence. Once again, she found nothing to say. He was right, as painful as this observation was –it was true. _How was she?_ Who was the real Kaeloo behind all that fake goodness? Maybe _he_ had the answer. That toad who she spent so much time and money trying to get rid of with the help of her psychotherapist. Kaeloo silently lowered her gaze to the ground as Mr. Cat watched her resign herself. His anger seemed to have transformed into grief, because a minute later, his expression changed. His eyebrows relaxed, his whiskers drooped, his torso deflated, and he slouched his body, allowing his arms to hang limply at his sides. Kaeloo, disappointed that her plan to ask for forgiveness hadn't worked, raised her head to look at the cat and widened her eyes at the sight of the sheer dullness in his eyes.

And then the realization hit her. Seeing this cat, who was normally proud, egoistic, and pain-resistant, now cowering and in pain... because of a frog who thought herself to be a kind, cute and gentle girl who would never hurt anyone. The hypocrisy which she hid under a fake layer of goodness was condemned by the sadness in the cat's eyes.

A sob was suddenly heard.

– Kaeloo? asked a soft voice, clearly satisfied by her misery.

 _How much?_

How much had she unknowingly hurt him? How much had she been a hypocrite by inviting him to come out of his shell, and then pushing him back into it, all while ignoring his feelings? How much injustice had she done to him by preventing him from openly expressing his feelings, by calling him a liar and a manipulator each time he tried? She had been so blind to all those times when he tried to tell her he loved her. Instead of telling him that she loved him too, or that she only felt pure affection towards him, or that she wanted to understand him, she had just transformed and beaten him up. She had been so, so wrong...

 _How?_

How had she been so ignorant of all the time when Mr. Cat had saved her life, implicitly complimented her, congratulated her when she won, pushed her to be herself when Pretty bullied her for being "weird", protected her... and loved her more than anyone else? How could she have thought, even for a moment, that he wished her harm? Even when he messed up her games, using dangerous traps and weapons, he only did it with the sole intention of getting her attention. He had the capability of stealing the spotlight with his charismatic side, but he had nobody to trust with his greatest treasure : his heart. No, actually, it was worse; he had trusted someone with it, only to see it disdainfully rejected, an eternal prisoner of all the labels he had forged for himself in an attempt to save himself from getting hurt: liar, jester, psychopath, manipulator, pervert, rude... labels that Kaeloo herself had helped stick on him, without even trying to understand their provenance and read what was secretly inscribed on them. And she dared to call herself the guardian of Smileyland. She burst out sobbing. How could she continue to wear a mask of innocence and joie-de-vivre when the person who counted the most for her - her best friend - was suffering because of her and her stupidity? How could she continue to think that she was a kind little frog when she was really a ruthless judge who favored some people, like Quack Quack, and ignored others, like Mr. Cat?

 _Why?_

Because that's who she was.

– Mr. C-

He quickly turned away from her and crossed his arms.

– N-no, his voice trembled. What did you want ? My forgiveness? Y-yeah, you're forgiven, now get lost.

Her chest tightened, because she could tell from his tone of voice that he hadn't forgiven her and wasn't going to any time soon.

– FUCK OFF ! his voice became even louder.

Kaeloo took a few steps back out of the living room without looking away from him with tear-filled eyes, her hands crossed across her chest and a frightened look on her face. Finally, she ran down the hallway, almost tripping several times. A few teardrops fell behind her, the only witnesses to her passage.

For the first time in a very long time, Kaeloo wanted Mr. Cat to truly forgive her.

And for the first time since they met, he refused to grant her that grace.


	3. Fever

–

 **TRANSLATION MADE BY : Randomness Unlimited. THANK YOU !**

 _ **IMPORTANT NOTICE:**_

 **This chapter contains a detailed scene about self-harm. If you do self-harm, or are sensitive to the subject, I do not encourage you to read or reproduce what is written here. Self-harm is not a solution, and if you want to talk about it, I'm here for you.**

 **Fever**

At the very moment that the aspirin began to act on his brain, Mr. Cat realized that he had screwed things up.

He was sitting on the dilapidated couch in his living room, leaning against his knees and forcefully rubbing his temples, with his face buried in the palms of his hands. The very foul stench of alcohol emanated from these hands –and this foul stench said a lot about the crap he has done and said while drunk. He tried in vain to remember what had happened. A few seconds passed and he lifted his gaze, noting that the glass of water on his coffee table was surrounded by a sea of empty bottles. Definitely, drinking without moderation when you're a preteen is a bad idea, no matter how mature you are, but we're talking about Mr. Cat here, and he was one of those people who broke all the rules. To tell the truth, there was no need to explain _why_. We could tell anyone who protested this sad spectacle that this cat had lived through "unlivable things", that it was "a long story, too complicated to explain", or that they would "get used to seeing him like this", but no.

No. What we have here, is a preteen who drank in an uncontrolled manner, hurt those around him both intentionally and unintentionally, destroyed everything he made, found ugliness in perfect things and made them imperfect, watched sports, read the news, made bitter jokes about taxes and marriage, was quick to illegally dabble in the world of adults (since he didn't have any ID proving that he was not a minor), and showed an unconditional love of money, alcohol, curvy female bodies and all things forbidden. It would be unworthy to arouse a semblance of mercy, even if it was a joke. A cat, who before being a cat was a child, before being a child was a monster, and before being a monster was human (in the moral sense) and before being a human was a shadow - the shadow of divine mistake itself.

He got up, his back slouching and his arms hanging limply by his sides, and went to the kitchen. He picked up a knife from one of the wooden islands, and sat back down on the couch which had supported him during the uncountable hangovers he had had over the years. With an indifferent, almost severe expression, a heart which felt dead and morale so low it was underground, he let remorse wash over him for a few seconds as he kept the knife at his side and freed his hands from the black fingerless gloves which imprisoned them. He looked at them carefully for a minute and obsessed over the places where he had released his demons on the back and front of his hands, which to him were nothing but a canvas which was painted on by the brush that was his knife. As for the "drawings", they were long cuts all over his hands, from back to front, from left, from top to bottom, from memory to memory. The orange color of his fur was camouflaged by the bloodstains on his abused skin - if you could even call it skin, because it was a rigid terrain, dotted with disgusting red scars. This despicable "artwork" was painted with red blood, named "Remorse" and signed "Depression".

Nice teamwork, eh?

He picked up his "brush", dipped it in the "paint" that was his remorse, and pressed it against his skin. He made a deep cut, covering his hand with thick red liquid, making another one of his sinister "works of art". He stopped and stared at his "painting", and smiled. He smiled, as though he found it more beautiful and clean than his other scars. He smiled, as though he was congratulating his regret for what it had made him do. And so, like a painter who was taken by a sudden inspiration, or a kid possessed by the excitation of childhood, he picked up his "brush" and continued to work. He tried to make a cut which was more straight, more precise, like little kids in pre-school do when they're told to color inside the lines. And Mr. Cat was still a kid, wasn't he? He hadn't touched the pre-adolescence yet, wasn't he? So why should he be stopped from pursuing one of his favorite hobbies? Wasn't having fun an inalienable right to kids? And that's what he was doing: he was _drawing_ , he was _having fun_! So leave him be!

The blade danced on his skin, sneakily piercing it with its pointed tip. The depth of the skin it penetrated went well with the pain it caused him, and that in turn went well with the memories of the previous evening. The more it pierced, the more it silenced the grieving retrospects which polluted the insalubrious waters of his conscience. It was no surprise that he felt a sudden urge to stick the knife in his skull, to silence the oh-so-bitchy record which was treacherously playing his own words over and over again in his head. But he couldn't. He needed his brain at this moment, to find more regrets to use as inspiration for his "painting".

But, while punishing himself so harshly, Mr. Cat was forgetting one important question: _Who was to blame?_

Let's analyse the situation.

Kaeloo had pushed him away and rejected him for the umpteenth time. She had noticed his sadness and, although her apology was not sincere, she had even taken the time to visit him in the icy cold evening - and the fact that she had done that was enough to delight him. And she'd left his house in tears. _In tears._ He had made her cry. And he hated seeing her cry, especially when it was his fault. After all, she wasn't that bad. It was normal for her to reject him, and for sure, he wasn't going to be able to count all the times he'd been turned down! So why had this time been different? He could have just ignored it, smiled as though nothing had happened, played with his friends until nightfall, gone home and then expressed his heartbreak with his "paintbrush" alone. _As usual._

But no.

He'd been pushed away and rejected once again. He'd been sad, and made the mistake of showing it to Kaeloo, while he usually held it in for the rest of the day. _Mistake number one._ He hadn't opened the door for her even though he'd heard her asking to be let inside, leaving her standing outside in the freezing cold. _Mistake number two._ He had faced her in a dirty quickdraw, which reflected one of his worst faults - alcoholism - with twisted whiskers, red eyes, the stench of alcohol, and a bottle in his hand –and Mr. Cat knew better than anyone else what he looked like when he was drunk. _Mistake number three_. He'd called her a hypocrite and blamed her for all the pain she'd caused him, without even questioning himself or waking up from his torpor for a few seconds and telling himself that whatever the truth was, saying something like that to your best friend was simply not done! He hadn't even stopped to think that it was his all own fault.

Yes, it was his fault that Kaeloo turned him down, and nobody else was to blame.

The knife pressed a little harder against his skin.

For goodness' sake, had he taken the time to look at himself in the mirror recently? Had he taken the time to fix his thick, pointed whiskers? To hide his little pink nose, which contrasted horribly with his orange fur, under a mask? To get rid of the fat that his stomach had accumulated due to his constant consumption of alcohol and junk food? How could anyone stand to even glance at this creature that was as hideous on the outside as it was on the inside? Speaking of the inside : Grumpy, lazy, messy, antisocial, greedy, cruel, choleric, manipulative, egocentric, perverted, and pessimistic. And to put the cherry - no, cherries - on top, he had numerous psychological issues too: sadomasochism, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, an oedipus complex, and alcoholism, to name a few.

Finally, the cut which marked the entirety of his hand was made. He looked at it with an admiration so fervent that it could have made even the most brutal of men shed a few tears.

Nothing positive was destined to come out of this cat. He begged for love, but ended up rejecting every opportunity he had to get it, for fear of getting hurt, being abandoned and having his heart broken. He had constructed a shell to protect himself from others, but he had forgotten to make an exit. Now, he was a prisoner. And he was suffocating in his shell. He saw no light and breathed no air. He was dead, buried in a tomb which he had prepared for himself, embracing the earth that was his fear and paranoia, sinking into an emotional coma from which nobody could save him. At least he used to have Kaeloo. She was the only person who was likely to dig him out of this grave, but he had pushed her away. And now he needed her because he was suffocating, but he was too ashamed to call her, and he was scared that his malaise would absorb her joie-de-vivre. He was sinking, just like the blade that was sinking into the palm of his hand, creating a gaping wound from which bright red blood gushed out. _Red._ Such a brilliant color should never have flowed out from the body of a being as repugnant as him. His blood should have been black like an onyx, inky like the night, dark like burnt cinders. His blood should have flowed out of his body through the cuts on his hands, taking with it the life which he didn't deserve.

But if the blood and the life left his body, what would remain?

Oh, surely these paintings and this brush, as the only remains of what was once a child who was driven to the brink of the abyss.

– Mr. Cat! screeched a panicked voice, accompanied by an aggressive knocking at the door.

It actually didn't take much to get Mr. Cat out of his little shell. He jumped, startled by the sudden noise. The screaming and the knocking grew louder.

– Mr. Cat, open the door! It's me, Stumpy!

 _Stumpy._

Mr. Cat's arm twitched violently due to the shock, sending the knife flying to the other side of the room so it landed under the bookshelf, and his eyes darted to the wound he had just made in the palm of his hand. He staggered to his feet, nearly tripping on the pillows which were lying on the floor, and ran to the kitchen. He opened the tap and held his hand under it, letting the water wash away the blood which was pouring out of his injuries. He couldn't help but wince at the burning sensation. He shut off the water immediately, dried his hands with a dirty rag which had been lying there for a long time, not caring about the risk of being infected, and slipped his gloves back on. Stumpy's voice was getting louder and more urgent-sounding, to the point where Mr. Cat was starting to worry about what he was going to tell him.

– Can it, hazelnut, I'm coming!

He was just about to open the flap door when a reddish-orange tornado rushed into the house. Mr. Cat turned to his friend, annoyed by his sudden intrusion and ready to yell at him, but he calmed down the moment he saw him. Stumpy was panting. His cheeks were red, his head was lowered ad he was resting his hands on his knees. It looked as though he had run all the way there in a panic.

– What happened?!

– Mr. Cat, you... have to... go... he said, taking deep breaths in between his words.

– Go ? Go where?

– To her... her house..

Mr. Cat raised an eyebrow, annoyed. His incomprehension was beginning to give way to frustration. He hated not knowing what was going on, especially when the situation seemed to be urgent. "Okay, listen here," he said, violently grabbing the squirrel by the shoulders and forcing him to look him in the eyes.

– Either you explain what's going on, or you get out of here. Who do you mean by 'her'?"

Stumpy took in a deep breath, his eyes anchored in Mr. Cat's. In his eyes, you could see sadness and worry, accompanied by a contagious fear - a very contagious fear, because just by staring into Stumpy's eyes, Mr. Cat was starting to get scared about what the squirrel was going to tell him.

– Kaeloo!

 _Kaeloo._

– What happened to her? asked the cat, feeling concerned.

– She's really sick! She - the doctor says she has a really bad fever! You have to come see her!

 _Oh._ Well...

– No.

No.

He hadn't hesitated for a fraction of a second before saying that word. He said it in a calm voice, indifferent to the pain he felt due to his wounds re-opening from the pressure he was exerting on Stumpy's shoulders. Kaeloo was his friend, and of course he was very worried about her. He wanted to be at her bedside so he could see how she was doing. For goodness' sake, he would even take care of her if he had to.

But no. He wouldn't go see her. He didn't want to see her. Well, actually, he wanted to see her, but he couldn't. Because if he even saw her shadow, he would be forced to relive all those atrocities he had said to her. He'd be able to see the painful expression on her face when she heard his cutting words and hear the sobbing that had echoed through the halls as she ran away from him. If he went to see her, he would probably end up scaring her and causing her more pain. And he didn't want to do that. He wasn't ready to see her again, and he thought she must also not want to see him either. It was best to let the situation calm down a bit.

– What do you mean, 'no'?! Do I have to remind you that she's our friend? You have to come see her! She's not feeling well at all, and plus, she –

– Don't insist on it, squirrel-face. I don't want to see her.

Now it was Stumpy's turn to be surprised and annoyed. He clenched his fists. He was about to open his mouth and yell at the cat, but unfortunately, his eyes happened to glance at the clock on the wall behind him, reminding him that there wasn't enough time for a scolding.

– Listen, I don't know what happened between you two, but this isn't the time to be acting like a kid.

This was rather ironic, since it was coming from Stumpy, of all people.

– You'll have the time to make up later. This is urgent! Skblblblbl!

He looked at Mr. Cat's face for a few minutes, but he didn't find any signs of pity or understanding.

 _Come on, Stumpy..._

– Quack Quack and I went to her house because she hadn't come out to play. We found her lying on the floor, barely conscious, and she was... murmuring something, he said in a strangely calm tone, hoping to find the slightest sign of interest in the feline's dull eyes. She was murmuring your name.

 _Bam._ The cat felt a violent shock pass through his body. Maybe his conscience felt it too, because he lowered his gaze to the ground, ashamed, as Stumpy watched him, intrigued.

– I'm not an expert in psychology, or at guessing games, but I know that it has something to do with you. So please, Mr. Cat... come visit her.

The rodent took in one final deep breath, no longer feeling exhausted, and lowered his eyebrows, glaring at his friend in a serious manner. Nobody had ever seen him being this serious or responsible before.

– She might need you.

And that was all it took.

It was time to put the brush away and leave the paintings to dry.

They say our bodies have strange ways of protecting themselves. Fevers have well-known symptoms: crippling tiredness, suffocating heat, constant nausea and lots of others which you'd probably want to avoid because of the discomfort they cause. However, even the old hobo who drunkenly staggers through your street at night can assure you that they are necessary - no, primordial - for our survival. Without it, your body would be like an injured deer exposed to hungry wolves (the wolves in this case are germs which cause infections, which are sometimes incurable). People have always compared a fever to a war between our body's defenses and the invaders who were threatening it. It exposed the weak points of our metabolism to the eyes of those around us, transforming the body's juvenile form into an overwhelming and pitiful mass.

But fevers also had another aspect, a second name: sadness. It is brief and unpleasant, yet it is necessary to preserve a good health. A real mental fever, which makes you nearly unrecognizable and pushes you to show the vulnerability which is tormenting you. That's what sadness is: the power to turn a sober man into a drunkard not knowing what to say, a drunk man into a sober man who recognizes his vulnerability, a child into a mature adult, and an adult into a capricious child in need of attention.

We could say that Kaeloo and Mr. Cat had caught two very different kinds of fever.

If it wasn't for her erratic breathing, you may have thought she was dead. Her dreary appearance made her bed, with its white sheets, look more like a coffin than a bed. Her arms were lying at her sides, her legs were stuck together, her cheeks were red and her green skin was now sickly pale. Kaeloo was trapped in a discomfort which she didn't know how to free herself from. She wanted to move her little webbed feet, or at least her eyeballs, but it felt like too much effort. It was as though the hyperactivity she exhibited signs of every day had abandoned her body. In addition, she was having a terrible headache, which made her feel like someone was beating a war drum with a baton made of marble inside her skull. This was affecting her vision as well - even though the only thing she was looking at was the plain white ceiling of her bedroom, she was seeing other colors as well. And even though her species didn't have ears, she kept hearing an oh-so-unpleasant high-pitched noise which really didn't help her headache. Mother Nature was very, very cruel to certain individuals. Even in magical countries where suffering was not supposed to exist, fever had found a way to afflict sick organisms with discomfort and pain.

– Quack...?

With some difficulty, Kaeloo opened her eyes to look at her friend, who was at the moment sitting on the bed, next to her, looking worried and sad. It was rare to see Quack Quack express any form of emotion. His face nearly always had a neutral, almost stupid looking expression on it, but he occasionally expressed emotions such as sadness or annoyance. He was carrying a red first-aid kit and wearing a black stethoscope around his neck - or was it white? Kaeloo did not know, because she was no longer able to tell colors apart.

« Qu.. » she wanted to say his name, but loudly coughed and whimpered in pain instead. He immediately went to get her a spoon of cough syrup. Despite his expertise in science, the duck wasn't that great with medicine, though he did possess some basic knowledge of it which proved beneficial to his friends in difficult times like these. Despite the headache making it rather difficult to think about anything, Kaeloo thought to herself that she was lucky to have a friend like Quack Quack. He put a cool, comforting hand behind her head as she drank the contents of the spoon. The sweet syrup revived her vocal cords and refreshed her throat, which until that point had felt exceedingly dry. Unable to verbally express her gratitude, she thanked him by blinking her eyes. The amphibian put her head back on the pillow, which was burning hot because of her body heat, and her breathing resumed, more strongly.

It seemed to her, in these few seconds which silently passed, that calmness was the only way to get rid of her headache.

– KAELOO!

… But If silence was a deity, Stumpy would be the devil.

– Look who I brought with me!

 _Huh?_ Who could he have possibly brought? The bunny twins were on vacation, and Olaf wasn't the type of person who would visit to see how she was doing. The only person left was...

– Come on, Mr. Cat, don't be scared!

Good grief.

Suddenly, Kaeloo had a coughing fit which prevented her from breathing, and Quack Quack rushed to get her some more cough syrup. Stumpy ran to her, worried, leaving his dear guest at the door. The "dear guest" in question was watching his friends - to be exact, _his_ friend, if she still considered him so - with dull, gloomy eyes and a heavy heart. He realized the negative effect his presence was having on the frog, and having decided never to come back to her house, he prepared to turn back and leave, but Stumpy noticed this and stopped him by grabbing onto his arm. He turned towards him, prepared to insult him and accuse him of causing them more pain than they were already in, but he stopped when he looked in the cat's eyes and saw that same glow of interest which had been there when he told him that Kaeloo needed him. Nevertheless, he continued to look at Mr. Cat with such authority that it was almost reminiscent of a child being scolded by a parent.

Stumpy as a parent and Mr. Cat as a child? This exchange of roles didn't just turn the tables, it broke them to pieces.

For the first time in his life, Mr. Cat resigned himself to what Stumpy was telling him.

The cat coughed slightly, giving a timid indication of his presence. He freed himself from his friend's grasp and, guided by the latter's intrigued expression, went to the frog's bed. Once he was by her side, he turned away, unable to stand the sight of his best friend in such agony. His wandering gaze met Quack Quack's, and he could see compassion and support in those big blue eyes. The ambiance of the room was truly paradoxical: on one hand, it was tense, as though all the beings present there, both living and non-living, were waiting for something, a sign, a word, a gesture, something that would reduce the tension in the atmosphere. On the other, more imperceptible hand, the ambiance was looser. However, it wasn't relaxed, because it was revealing the true nature of some of the people present there : Despite Stumpy's fascination with violence and destruction like you would see in a video game, he was still a very sensitive child, and seeing his friend like this was quite disheartening for him. As for Quack Quack, he proved that he could really focus on things other than yogurt, which in itself was a feat.

Then there was Mr. Cat, cold, abrupt and stubborn. These adjectives - or faults - made him responsible for the tense atmosphere.

– Get well soon, he managed to choke out.

We had known better in terms of the beginning of the conversation, but that didn't make his attempt a failure. Stumpy and Quack Quack took in a deep breath, closed their eyes and exhaled, both of them feeling visibly calmer. It was as if they'd been carrying heavy loads during the silence, and they had finally been able to put them down.

Kaeloo didn't say anything. The words which she wanted to say were probably too much of a burden for her vocal cords. Anyway, she thanked the cat with an imperceptible nod of her head. But this nod was not enough; despite the fact that it was enough to show her gratitude, the two friends felt a sense of incompletion. It was as though the room needed a more important gesture than a nod to get rid of the tension. The cat and the frog needed to talk, and to look each other in the eyes with the indiscretion and ease which they always had! Mr. Cat should have been cracking jokes about Kaeloo's current state in order to hide his worry, and Kaeloo should have been angrily glaring at him to hide her gratitude. That's what they always did. They needed to have a verbal discussion.

But how?

You didn't need to be a soothsayer to see our lovebirds' unease. Stumpy's perplexed face suggested that he had noticed it. Don't assume that Stumpy was unaware of their feelings for each other. In fact, he may have been the first person in Smileyland to have noticed the complexity of their relationship, even though guessing games weren't his forte. It's just that he didn't know how to get them together. He had tried to set them up on a date once, but it had gone horribly wrong, and he had decided that it was better to let them figure it out on their own.

But here, the situation seemed more serious and complex than the usual deal where Mr. Cat would injure Quack Quack and then get beaten up by Bad Kaeloo. So, before trying to fix whatever it was, Stumpy would need to know the nature of their problem... and let's just say that his underdeveloped brain couldn't find information that was viable or credible enough. He would need help, and the first person who came to mind was Quack Quack. Evidently, he couldn't ask anyone else for help - Eugly because she didn't really know about the Kaeloo/Mr. Cat affair, Olaf because he wasn't their friend (in the moral sense), and Pretty for obvious reasons. But to solve this mystery, they needed to investigate their friends' behavior during the hours leading to this moment. Therefore, it was impossible to solve the problem at the moment.

But they had to do something! For goodness' sake, look at them, the way they were avoiding eye contact, biting their lips and sitting back to back! It was heartbreaking, no, shameful, to see these two best friends (or more) avoiding each other.

Suddenly, Stumpy discreetly approached Quack Quack, stood on his tiptoes and whispered something in the duck's non-existent ear. Mr. Cat was lost in thought and didn't notice them, and Kaeloo didn't notice either, because she was in another feverish delirium. Quack Quack seemed skeptical, but Stumpy hardened his expression with each word that was spoken. When their opinionated debate ended, Stumpy got back down on his feet, and Quack Quack started to put the medicines away in his first-aid kit. The sounds made by the vials of medicine attracted Kaeloo and Mr. Cat's attention, and they turned their heads. The former raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Quack Quack cut her off with a "Quack."

What did this "Quack" mean? Alas, we don't really understand duckling language, but he probably meant something like "Don't worry," or "My job is done." What else could he possibly want to say to his friend's tired face? He looked one last time at the squirrel, who had crossed his arms and turned his back, ready to leave. He joined him quickly, and when the door slammed, Mr. Cat finally realized that they had left... and consequently, he was all alone with Kaeloo in a closed room.

 _Those bastards._

But that wasn't the problem. Sure, they were bastards, but his friends still had the intelligence to save themselves from an embarrassing situation by leaving him there alone.

The first alarm sounded in Mr. Cat's brain as the silence came back, and if at this instant a palpable incarnation of silence had appeared, Mr. Cat would have wiped it off the face of the planet with his weapons. The alarm gave out an instruction that was just as crazy as it was radical: " Run. Run far away from this room, join the others, put as much distance between the two of you as you can, and don't stay with her." But nobody (except, apparently, Stumpy and Quack Quack) would execute that order. Why not? Because Mr. Cat had more neurons than the ones which were yelling at him to run away, and these other neurons showed him how absurd this idea was: run away from his sick friend's room, what better way to take care of her and not make her feel like a burden? If he was alone, Mr. Cat would have banged his head against the wall, because his brain seemed to be incapable of coming up with any productive thoughts in this very serious moment. The only solution he could see was to stay with Kaeloo.

Good heavens. The muscles of his legs were starting to feel the effects of stress biting them and injecting them with a dreadful venom. Also, the blood loss from his self-ha - sorry, "painting", was contributing to his weakness. Soon, Mr. Cat started to scan the room, looking for a chair he could sit on –for goodness' sake, he was supposed to _take care_ of the sick, not _be_ sick!

And then, he heard a light tapping sound, so light that if it wasn't for the silence he wouldn't have been able to hear it. The sound was coming from behind him, and there was nobody else with him except Kaeloo. He gulped, momentarily forgetting his fatigue, and slowly turned his head. He stopped once the bed came into his field of vision, because he didn't want to see the frog's face. He didn't like seeing his friend in such a state, because it overwhelmed him with a sense of guilt so strong that he could burst into tears.

Her sickly pale hand was tapping on the mattress, lightly, in a fatigued gesture, and... _oh, golly_. She was calling him!

His breathing became harsh and difficult. Each breath he took in was accompanied by a sickly feeling which mixed itself in his mouth, reduced his vocal cords to ashes, went down his throat like a fireball, and finished its journey by giving him a horrible stomach ache. He couldn't ignore her, even though he wanted to. She needed his help for some reason, probably to get up, or to drink her medicine, or something like that.

The tapping continued, now louder. It definitely attracted his attention. He resigned himself : he was incapable of ignoring his conscience and his stress any more than he was now. So he took a deep breath, turned all the way around and looked at his friend's bed.

Immediately, sadness spread across his face. He noticed the speed at which her condition had deteriorated since his arrival: she was sweating so badly that her pillow was soaked, making a round puddle around her head. The water was deserting her burning body, and her skin was turning pale, so pale that it was almost the same color as her sheets.

Mr. Cat didn't hesitate for a second before joining her.

Because even if he still wanted to stay away from her, that didn't mean even for a moment that he wasn't worried about her. If you wanted proof, all you had to do was look at his face and see the emotions on it that he hadn't bothered to hide: worry, sadness, frustration, forgiveness, and other things which only a sincere heart could feel. You might think he was naïve, because he was worried about a girl who wouldn't stop rejecting him. You might think he was an impostor, because he was sad about what she was going through even though just the previous day he had spat out all those hateful words to her. You might think he was a jerk, because even if he was worried about her, he pretended he wasn't by keeping his distance.

You might think he was whatever you wanted him to be, because he loved her, and love always silences reasoning.

She made the effort to turn her reddened face towards him and open her eyes to look at him. They say you never understand the value of what you have until it's gone, and that was correct. If a similar situation had come up at a time when they hadn't been fighting, she would have just vaguely stared at the sly smile that was playing on his lips, and that was it. But now that he was standing next to her, so close yet so far, he had never seemed so _good looking_ to her. She wanted to talk to him, about anything and everything, about their games, about the news, about Quack Quack, or even about the daisies which had bloomed that week, and she wanted to call him by his name in order to get his attention, but she no longer had the right to speak to him. She wanted to joke around with him and give him a friendly slap on the back (even if that would cost her what little energy she had left), she wanted to laugh and hold on to his arm, but she no longer had the right to touch him. She wanted to love him like she had always loved him, but she couldn't do that anymore.

And for the first time ever, despite her weakened condition, she understood why Mr. Cat loved breaking the rules so much. The forbidden had a painfully sweet taste.

– Do you...

Both of their hearts leaped.

– Do you want me to change your pillow ?

Kaeloo thanked the sickness for putting a chronically tired expression on her face, because without it, there was no way she could put on a natural looking face after hearing the serious voice which was addressing her. The comparison between the embarrassed tone he was using now and the one he had used yesterday was visceral in her head, but she forced herself to forget it. She nodded her head and Mr. Cat passed an arm under her body to reach the free pillow next to her. However, he paused when he realized that his arm was too short to reach the _damn_ pillow, and the only way to get it was to lie down on top of the frog.

 _Lie down on top of her... lie down on top of the frog..._

The brain has its own reasoning that reason ignores, because despite the pure unease that he felt, and the urgency of the situation, the thought of himself, lying on top of Kaeloo, stomach to stomach, made him blush and slightly smile.

 _You bastard, this isn't the moment..._

Yep, definitely not the moment.

He got up immediately, and taking troubled steps, he went around the bed. Kaeloo seemed to have understood the cause of his sudden embarrassment, because her cheeks were suddenly starting to get redder than usual. But it was impossible to tell embarrassment from a symptom of her illness, and Kaeloo mentally thanked the fever for having saved her from several embarrassing situations that day. Mr. Cat grabbed the pillow forcefully, as though it were a stress ball, and then stopped again for a few seconds. He would have to touch her - briefly, to support her head, but that didn't change the fact that -

 _Stop!_

He sighed, frustrated with himself. If he kept wasting time thinking of stupid, childish things like this, he would lose both Kaeloo and his own mental health. He passed his hand quickly under her head, feeling her sweat on his bare fingers with some satiety, and quickly replaced the pillow. His movements were hurried and rather rough, making Kaeloo whimper a little. As soon as he did that, he heard a quiet, contented sigh, and his heart started to tingle. The fact that he had helped her to get comfortable made him feel somewhat happy, even though their relationship was strained at the moment. Mr. Cat usually wasn't the kind of person who would help people if he was on bad terms with them. On the contrary, he would try to find a sadistic way to increase their suffering. That's what he would have done if the patient was someone like Pretty or Olaf. But this was Kaeloo, his best friend, the one who knew him better than anyone else, the one who was nicer to him than anyone else had ever been. He couldn't just leave her like that. Even though she had hurt him, and she was one of the main causes of his _post_ - _depression,_ she was also one of the few reasons he wanted to keep living.

And just that one thing, the realization of how much she meant to him, convinced Mr. Cat that they would make up. Yes, there was no doubt about it. Things had always been that way, and they would be that way as long as they lived in the same place, reproducing the same scheme of friendship. Taken by a sudden sense of serenity, he walked around her bed and sat near her feet, not bothering to ask her for permission. She didn't reply. She had probably noticed his tiredness and clumsy steps. He bent over, leaned against his knees, put his cold hands against his face and admired the sun in all its splendor. The beige tiles shone due to the sunbeams which penetrated the poorly closed curtains, and there was no sign of dirt or dust anywhere. She must have found the time to clean every evening, which was something Mr. Cat never did – then, the irrepressible image of Kaeloo wearing a pink apron and humming while sweeping the floor entered his mind, and he suppressed a sigh of boredom. He tried to imagine what her daily routine would be like. He didn't bother to wonder why he kept thinking of her; he knew that it was just because of the irrevocable need to flee from the tense atmosphere.

She probably got up early, did warm-up exercises with enthusiasm, ate breakfast, came to find someone to play with and then...

Mr. Cat raised an eyebrow. Maybe he didn't know her as well as he claimed to - her routine couldn't possibly be that repetitive, could it? Even if Kaeloo was one of the most talkative and expressive people ever, nobody knew anything about her private life or her origins. Every time she was asked to reveal something about her past, she narrated a different version of it. It was true that the inhabitants of Smileyland weren't very fond of this type of information. They just greeted each other, played for a while in the environment they were accustomed to and then went back home, sometimes bearing injuries from extreme violence. Planned outings, talking around a campfire and other things like that which involved communication were never their strong point. The only information they really knew about each other had been accidentally revealed during one of their games, and was usually forgotten by the time everyone went home at the end of the day. It wasn't as though private life was considered sacred in Smileyland. The residents had already asked each other indiscreet questions, but that was done for the sole purpose of humiliating the person who was being interrogated.

Everything was perfectly stoic, silent and immobile. Even the medication leaflet which was on top of the nightstand didn't move in the wind. It was as though the calm, which was dominating the place, was a religious formality.

 **[LISTEN TO : Coldplay – The Scientist]**

– I...

Mr. Cat jumped, his derriere moving about a centimeter in the air. He turned his head towards her to encourage to keep speaking, though he didn't look at her.

– Sometimes, I tell myself that it isn't worth trying anymore, she said, her voice tarnished by sickness.

He frowned and lowered his head a bit more.

– I tell myself that I have to accept who I am. That it's too late to fix anything, and anyway, you all know what I'm like... you're my friends. I can't hide anything from you, after all.

It was difficult to find out what she was talking about with such depth and emotion, but Mr. Cat knew that it had something to do with the... _fight_ they had earlier.

There was a moment of silence.

– I know what I am.

 _Oh,_ thought Mr. Cat, who was itching to know what she meant.

– I just don't like it when people tell me about it, that's all. After all, nobody likes to hear that they're the opposite of what they claim to be, do they?

 _Nobody likes to hear that they're the opposite of what they claim to be._

Maybe she didn't realize it, but not only did this describe her situation, it also described his. Those words that she had said reflected the cat's personality: pretending to be selfish, monstrous and manipulative, but in reality sensitive and vulnerable. He wouldn't admit it if you told him, though; he'd deny it in a manner that was both cruel and piteous. The same applied to everyone in Smileyland, really. They all wore masks to hide their real personalities –but now is not the time for us to discuss these complex matters.

Anyway, wasn't she accusing him implicitly by saying that she didn't need to be reminded of who she really was?

– You know, I took a whole evening to accept what I heard yesterday, she said, putting on a fake smile painted with nostalgia and looking into the distance. Actually, I still haven't accepted it yet. When I think about it now, I realize that it was stupid to get so sick just because of something I already knew about. I know that I... that I'm...

She puffed her cheeks and blew out, while Mr. Cat remained alert, wanting to hear what she had to say.

– That I am the way I am, she said loosely. I've dedicated my whole life to making a good image of myself. Kind, cute, innocent, pure... and... everything I put all that effort into just collapsed yesterday. It hurts. It really hurts, Mr. Cat. You can see that in my present state. But... but that's not what hurt me the most...

She bit her bottom lip furiously, before continuing in a strangled voice.

– It's... realizing that you don't have value for someone anymore. By hiding my second personality, I... I just wanted to... she choked back a sob. I've lost a lot of people that way, so... I just wanted... to keep you close to me... but all I did was distance you. I don't want... I don't want to lose my friends... but I think I've already lost one.

– You haven't lost _anyone!_

He yelled with such urgency and need that he involuntarily stood up on his feet. Unfortunately, the brutality with which he had gotten up caused him to feel like he had been hit on the head by a thunderclap, so he wavered for a few seconds before finding a slightly less majestic balance. The gazes of the two friends met momentarily. There was a certain contrast between what their eyes were expressing. Both of them showed tiredness and sadness, but Kaeloo's showed an old nostalgia and a nascent tarnishing while Mr. Cat's showed two concrete emotions which were possibly the only ones he had never bothered to hide: shock and disappointment.

He took a few steps towards her bedside, dominating because of his height and good health, and repeated himself in a calmer tone.

– You haven't... lost anyone. I...

He cleared his throat, and for a fraction of a second, he wondered what he was supposed to say. Emotional conversations were never his passion or his forte, but... the confessions of the frog were worth it. Both of them seemed to be pretty bad with words when it came to talking about feelings, so why not give it a shot?

– We... we both said some pretty horrible things to each other. In the end - I mean - I've lived through much worse, and I guess you have too... it's just that this time, I..."

 _He?_ How was he supposed to justify the anger he had shown, the words he had said and the tears he had caused her to shed?

– I couldn't take it anymore, he said, with a sigh that seemed to regroup all the tension which he'd been holding inside. I... I suppose that we all have the right to - you know, a little rest, to recover from the events of a day, and... I didn't rest correctly, maybe, so...

His words weren't making any goddamn sense. They were incoherent, mixing up different subjects - well, they were expressing something which was somewhat intelligible, but still evading the main subject. For goodness' sake, that wasn't what he was supposed to be saying! Wasn't he hurting himself earlier because of the remorse he felt? And now that he had the irrevocable opportunity to get rid of the remorse and replace it with something better, now that they were alone and free to have a private discussion, he hadn't apologized? And he was blaming it on his tiredness?!

When we said that nothing positive was destined to come out from this -

– When I said what I thought about you, at the moment I was... drunk and tired, so... it - it would have been better if you had never listened to me, Kaeloo, he said in a voice that was slowly starting to fade, calling her by her real name as proof of his sincerity.

– But I heard you. That's the problem, she said in a reproachful voice, turning her head to look out of the window.

Mr. Cat spread his arms out and waved them wildly. « Yeah, I know! That's why I'm – », he was cut off by her.

– But I'm not mad at you. I'm not going to get mad at you. I suppose I've already disappointed you enough. If that's what you think of me, I presume I can't change anything. If you hadn't said it yesterday, you would have said it some other day. In any case, it would... it would still be my fault. I hurt you by rejecting you. I shouldn't have done that.

– No, don't say – ...

– I'm sorry, Mr. Cat.

It felt like a stab to the heart.

Because even if he knew at the bottom of his heart that it was her fault, that she was the one who had rejected him, and caused him to hurt himself, think poorly about himself and fall into alcoholism, he couldn't bring himself to accept the fact that she was apologizing to him. The mere thought of the fact that it was his fault she was sick filled him with an incredible guilt. She was lying there, all pale and fragile, to give him the same apology she had given him yesterday. Only now, he was perfectly sober (or not, because sadness made sober people drunk), and she wasn't sober, she was under the influence of the fever (or maybe she was sober, because sadness turned drunk and sick people into sober ones who knew their own vulnerabilities). It was like a bad joke played by karma. There was probably a deity up there laughing at them, amused by their pain.

The cat started to bite his bottom lip furiously, as though the pressure in the room had settled in his mind and body. _You're not going to crack now, are you?_ He felt the heartbreak rising progressively through his body. It tormented his stomach, left a lump in his throat, stung his nose and rose up to his eyes, going in the opposite direction than the stress had gone earlier. _Here and now?_ He closed his fists, causing his knuckles to whiten. His claws instinctively came out, piercing through his gloves and painfully attaching themselves to his scars. _Really?_ His body began to shake, as though his legs could no longer support his sadness. _Stop it right now, loser._

– Mr. Cat...

Kaeloo giggled a bit. Mr. Cat suddenly raised his head, and his eyes bulged in surprise. Kaeloo laughed more and more, until her laughter got as loud as her fevered vocal cords could stand. She started to cough violently, causing the cat to turn towards her, feeling torn between surprise and worry, but she didn't care. She just kept on laughing. He had no idea what to do. Get mad, because this really wasn't the time to be laughing? Be humiliated, because she was probably laughing at the state he was in? Join her, so that he could find out what was so funny?

– Huh? he said, because _hell,_ he didn't understand anything at the moment.

– You're so... so tense, she said, trying to raise an arm to wipe a tear from her eye. She calmed down. You don't have to forgive me today, Mr. Cat. I can –

This time, he was the one who cut her off mid-sentence.

– I'm not talking about forgiveness, froggy, he said, more drily than he meant to. I have nothing to do with your apologies, because they don't answer my questions. I told you that I...

He paused, his mouth open, and his eyes met Kaeloo's. She seemed anguished, yet intrigued to find out the end of the sentence.

 _That I love you?_ No, he would never say that.

– That I... in short, I clearly showed you how I feel... about... about you, and you still haven't answered me, he said, blushing miraculously. He raised his hands a little. So... I'm not going to give you the famous 'take your time' or 'I'll wait for an answer', because I don't want to wait any longer, especially after... yesterday. You just need to understand, tadpole. This can't go on... I need an answer.

Kaeloo looked down, apparently feeling pensive. Minutes passed. She tried to think of a good answer. Mr. Cat puffed his cheeks and blew out, no longer able to hide his anxiety. What was he waiting for? A yes? Evidently, she was not going to answer him right now. So, he urged with a sigh :

– At least, tell me if what I said about myself yesterday was wrong.

So that was it.

She suddenly raised her head to look at him, shocked. Her jovial expression disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared, giving way to a concerned, almost nostalgic pout. Mr. Cat sighed, hating himself for saying that... but now that she had told him everything in her heart with candor, and they had started to talk about their feelings... it was best to continue, wasn't it?

 _Say it._

– That you consider me to be a lesser being, and that I... he paused, unable to remember what else he had said. He had been drunk at the time, and now he was embarrassed; both of these factors had caused him to forget it all.

– Let me help you, said a weak voice.

He frowned, not understanding, but before he could say anything, she started.

– The... tough guy of the gang, a punching bag, a pain in the... rear, she said, trying to replace the swear words he had used so she wouldn't have to repeat them herself.

Mr. Cat's jaw dropped. Had he really said all that? It was incredible, the amount of bullshit one could say in a few seconds, but the frog had remembered everything he told her. He sighed. It would be impossible to make her forget.

– Yes, he said, slouching a little.

– Well, no. I've never thought of you that way. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but... well... you didn't really give me a chance, she blushed. So I'm telling you now.

She tried to make both of their gazes meet. Mr. Cat felt a mite of unease upon seeing the sadness and regret in his friend's eyes. They both took in a deep breath, prepared to deal with the repercussions that the words they said next would have. Whatever it was, they had reached the climax of these late revelations. He was finally going to find out what he meant to her, if his worries had been stupid, if his attempts had not been in vain, and if the wounds under his gloves deserved some medicine and bandages, just like his heart deserved a little love and affection. She was going to find out what he would do when she told him :

– I-

Just as Kaeloo was about to finish her sentence, she and Mr. Cat heard a conversation going on outside. She stopped in the middle of her explanation, and they both started to concentrate on the voices they were hearing.

– I'm telling you, man... don't worry, this is a great idea! said a childish voice, which they recognized immediately.

– Stumpy?! they cried.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and the two friends entered the room. Stumpy, whose hand had been on the door handle the whole time, moved over to allow Quack Quack to enter the room. As Quack Quack rapidly moved to Kaeloo's bedside, he looked at Mr. Cat, who, to his surprise, responded immediately to his visual contact. They continued to stare at each other, looking perfectly tense, and Stumpy winked at Mr. Cat mysteriously. The latter responded with a grumpy, tired frown. It was then that he noticed that weird feeling which was animating him. It was as if he was back to being the person he usually was, and he hadn't been "himself" while talking with Kaeloo. As if his usual self had run away with Stumpy and Quack Quack, and come back with them.

He made a mental note to revise what he had told Kaeloo while he hadn't been "himself".

– So, Mr. Cat, how did it go? asked Stumpy, leaning on his friend's shoulder.

The cat violently pushed him away and glared at him.

– Nutcracker, you're a total –

– know, I know, I can be such a genius sometimes! he said vainly. He then burst into one of his crazy laughs, the kind which you (unfortunately) know all too well.

Mr. Cat was too tired to even try to understand him. It was nearly impossible to understand Stumpy unless you were as crazy as he was, anyway. The little rodent was always coming up with some weird scheme or the other, and dragging his friends into it... but that was what made Stumpy Stumpy. It was what fueled their friendship.

Accompanied by his friends, Mr. Cat left about half an hour later, wishing Kaeloo with another "Get well soon". Those were the same words he had said earlier, but this time they were spoken with all the emotions he had felt while talking with her : a little stress, a little compassion, and a little bit of everything that made up their friendship.

The end of the day didn't signify the end of the problem, and neither did the smiles and conversations. Kaeloo still hadn't answered Mr. Cat's question, and Mr. Cat hadn't told her whether or not he had forgiven her. It would have been better if they had, though, because fever wasn't the only thing which was manifesting its evil presence in Smileyland.

There was something else too. Maybe, just maybe, it was the one with the black robe who carries a scythe.


	4. What Happened ? (Part I)

–

 **THE TRANSLATION WAS DONE BY THE EXCELLENT : Randomness Unlimited.**

This one took some time to come out, but my translator was busy these past months. I hope you'll understand, guys. Anyways, bonne lecture, and thank you for the reviews on the translated version, it's very encouraging for both of us (me and my translator) !

Kaeloo tossed and turned in her bed.

She had turned in every way possible, tried all sorts of strange positions, taken deep breaths, and counted imaginary sheep which danced above her head, but none of these activities seemed to seduce the Sandman. She had to sleep. She had no choice, it was an incontestable order which her brain had been passing through her neurons all night - however, the latters seemed to turn a deaf ear, taken by an inexhaustible dynamism which her body was involuntarily forced to respond to. She had tried to rid herself of her abusive anxiety by reminding herself of who she was, what she had to do, the responsibilities that she had to take on every day with Olympic-style energy, and the disasters that could ensue if she even made one little mistake, but even this wasn't alarming enough for her mind, which was drowning in elusive reveries.

She groaned. Good grief, she never would have dramatized her insomnia if her friends had been _reasonable_ people who could live without constant surveillance - but they weren't. In this place where she was the leader, there was a squirrel with no sense of reality who wouldn't hesitate to throw himself off a cliff if you told him his girlfriend was standing at the bottom, a slightly psychopathic cat who tortured and manipulated others for his own personal gains with no sense of remorse, and a duck who was rather calm, but also a substance abuser who could be drived into an almost murderous rage if anyone dared to come near his yogurt. If the frog turned her back on these three, especially the former two, for even a few minutes, there would be absolute chaos.

The minutes passed and she abandoned her despair against the ambient warmth of the room which seemed to have trapped itself in her sheets, and a sigh of resignation escaped her lips. Her svelte legs were spread out to form a V, with each one on one side of the bed, and her arms spread out too, as though she was looking for another warm body to snuggle with, even though there was nobody else in her blurry line of sight. Her fever had subsided a little since the previous day, but it was still there, and it had considerably weakened her body. Well, it seemed that the Sandman was unreachable at the moment - and probably for the rest of the night. It would be futile to insist on calling him, wouldn't it? Kaeloo decided to go for a swim in the sea of thoughts that were flowing through her head at the moment –maybe she would drown for good.

And thus, she began to imagine a Smileyland populated by ideal versions of her friends: a Stumpy who was smart enough to distinguish what was real and what wasn't, what was true and what was false, and what was acceptable and what wasn't; a Mr. Cat who used his maturity to help in the upbringing of the others (like a "second guardian" to them, with Kaeloo being the first), and used his weapons for peacemaking purposes; a Quack Quack who disliked yogurt and had a variated diet. That was the only thing Kaeloo wanted Quack Quack to change, because his present self would have already been the ideal duck, if it wasn't for his addiction. This ideal group of friends would spend their days happily playing games while obeying all the rules, without a squirrel who was crazy enough to kill them, a machiavellian cat to bully them, a duck who ended up bearing the brunt of their abuse, and a frog who punished them.

But strangely, this vision of the ideal group of friends, as adorable as it was, seemed incomplete. She had been able to imagine what they would do - spend hours together playing games and having as much fun as possible (or at least, that's what she thought they'd do), but when it came to the details, like the conversations they'd have with each other or the moments they'd share, Kaeloo didn't know what to think of. In fact, she simply could not conceive an image other than what she'd always known: Kaeloo, interfering in whatever her friends were doing to suggest a game. Stumpy complaining about the game because he didn't understand the rules, or found them unfair. Mr. Cat making disagreeable remarks about the toad. Quack Quack eating tons of yogurt. Her brain enforced this scene on her like adults enforced rules on kids who couldn't think of anything other than what they were being told to. If she had the chance to change her friends, would she do it? Who knew, maybe she'd remove a few of their bad traits - but even _that_ would ruin the ensemble of their personalities. On one hand, it was undeniable that she wanted them to stay the way they were, even if they were far from perfect, but on the other hand -

Her line of thought was suddenly cut short as an unsustainable pain shot through the back of her skull, like a wave passing through a calm sea. She put her hands on her head and clumsily massaged her forehead, whimpering in pain. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her face was compressed in a painful expression. Her legs relaxed instinctively, so much that she couldn't even feel them anymore, as though she'd been given an anesthetic. This exquisite sensation only lasted for a few seconds. She exhaled deeply, letting all the air out of her lungs, and stared lazily at the ceiling of her room. It was dark and shadowy and she couldn't even tell what color it was. Her eyes repeatedly blinked, trying to erase the blurry little black dots which appeared in her field of vision, but this involuntary movement only amplified her hallucinations. Her fever brought her to order, telling her to stop thinking about such baffling problems when all she needed was a little rest. An impassable step was separating her from sleep, but she couldn't find the right place to put her foot, so she was stuck in the middle of the path, between overwhelming fatigue and the inability to sleep. So she closed her eyes in a last-ditch effort. Maybe the sandman would take pity on her.

...

" _ **AAAAH!"**_ Kaeloo forcefully opened her eyes and opened her mouth, in a stillborn cry. The rhythm of her heartbeat started to accelerate, first gently, then dangerously fast, and a sudden but strong discomfort forced her off of her pillow. Her head buzzed violently, and her body heated up, causing her sheets to stick to her legs. An inexplicable depression started to come over her, as though the ceiling would come crashing down on her head at any moment, so she pushed her hands down on the bed to support herself. She turned her head and noticed a puddle of sweat which had formed under her, soaking the pillow and the mattress.

 _Why am I sweating so much? What's going on?!_

She did't understand why she felt this way - and her incomprehension accrued these many mysterious and disagreeable emotions. She was certainly feverish, but she was much better than yesterday for this to be a simple passing hallucination! Her panicked heart, tense muscles and moist skin plunged her deeper than ever into the world of sensations. She tried respiratory exercises, murmuring calming orders. She hadn't had any nightmares - she hadn't even slept, she had just closed her eyes for a couple of seconds. She had passed out, but her senses had remained alert enough to signal even the quietest sound to her. So what was causing her such physical distress? Maybe the fever had overheated her body who was trying to cool itself down? Improbable. The apprehension and the stress that planted their fangs in her skin a little more forcefully every minute showed her a threat that was only too real, too serious, to be of natural origin.

 _What is happening to me?!_ For a second, a suggestion that was just as ridiculous as it was scary popped up in her mind: what if she was living her last moments? Perhaps her body was trying to hold on to a life that was slipping between her fingers, while her mind was imploring her to scream and ask for help! Kaeloo froze. _No. Don't think like that. It's irrational! Nobody dies because of a slight fever!_ She had taken her temperature, and there was nothing alarming about it. On the contrary, her body was slowly but surely regaining its cool - though her mind was doing the exact opposite. So she wasn't dying, right?

It was night time and the room was calm and silent; nothing could bother her more than this nocturnal quietness. Her senses continued to signal her an irritating silence, as though it was foreshadowing some horrible event. Something horrible was going to -

...

A deafening noise, violent and powerful, as if the earth had just collapsed, or the gates of hell had opened, shook the ground. Kaeloo instinctively let out a cry of pure terror, and her back arched sharply. _What is -_ Her head and ears started ringing atrociously. They clearly weren't taking the sudden noise very well. The ground started shaking beneath her feet. At first it was gentle, but it became more intense with every passing second, as though her house was merely standing on a base. She screamed again and jumped out of bed, enduring a brief vertige, while orders and questions bustled in her head.

 _What just happened? Was that an explosion?!_

Her head turned mechanically towards the window. She saw thick black smoke over the horizon, confirming her worst fears.

 _ **It was**_ _an explosion._

Her heart leaped into her throat and she broke out into a cold sweat. As soon as she realized this, Kaeloo put all her trust in the most primary animalistic nature: her survival instinct. Her conscience, her rationality, and anything else that had to do with rationality deserted her, giving place to the one thing her body needed most: adrenaline.

– An explosion?!

To her body, this confirmation was like firing a starter's gun. Blood pulsed through her veins, faster than ever before, and then the adrenaline finally kicked in, bringing her numb legs back to their former vivacity. She leaped out of bed again, but fell down since the ground was still shaking, threatening to bring down the house. Things were happening quickly, and Kaeloo was too scared to think about her material possessions She crawled to the room's door with an incredible dexterity. In just a few seconds, the suffering, dejected girl had become a good enough runner to run in the Olympics. She continued her long escapade out of the house, holding onto the walls and furniture for support, breathing pure adrenaline, swallowing her tears and her fear. She'd have time to ask questions once she was outside the building, safe and sound. The ceiling, the ground and the walls around the trembling frog were all swaying like the pendulum of a clock. It was like an earthquake.

Kaeloo's front door had never seemed as great to her as it did when it appeared at the end of a hallway she no longer recognized as hers. "Finally!" she said, unable to stop herself, as she reached up and turned the knob. She had finally managed to exit the building.

And when she lifted her gaze to the outside world, reality hit her really hard in two different ways.

The first blow was physical. Her body, having used all her energy in her escape, fell to the ground, giving her an amount of pain equivalent to the amount of bravery she had shown during those few minutes. Her legs trembled more than ever, the knots in her belly had united, forming a black hole of anxiety that was slowly waving and slowly engulfing her stomach, and her head felt like a drum which was being played by an angry musician, resulting from vertigo and a strong apprehension. Her heart alternated between beating violently fast and really slow, and her breathing was fairly irregular as well. She scarcely remembered what had brought her here on the lawn of her garden. The real earthquake was not the one shaking her house, but the one in her head.

 _This isn't the time to waver! You have to see what's happening!_

Kaeloo was crouched on the ground with her back slouching and her head engulfed by flowers. She looked as if she was dying. But she wasn't. In spite of her complexion, which was not ready to regain its usual color any time soon, and the fire that consumed her throat, she tried to regain her courage. The seconds passed. She looked up.

And the shock of the second blow made her forget all about the first one.

The sky. The sky, formerly a dark blue, perforated by the shine of the stars and the light of the moon, had totally disappeared... it had become pitch black. There were no more immaculate clouds or luminous celestial bodies. In their place was a majestic black mass that gradually ascended to the heavens in the form of thick black waves. There was no doubt about it: a grave disaster - a very grave one, one of the gravest ones possible - had taken place.

And so, considering the disappearance of the clouds and the reign of this darkness, the image in Kaeloo's head didn't become clearer, but more hazy and darker. Guided by a second instinct, if it wasn't a presentiment, she lifted herself up as much as she could, bearing the weight of her body like a burden, and staggered to the source of the smoke, her eyes wide, incredulous. The closer she got, the more overwhelming the heat got, pushing her to gasp for air. The grass beneath her feet, formerly green, had turned a twilight color, reflecting something that stood out in the distance. Her heart beat a little harder with each step, while terrifying questions popped up in her head.

 _Who did that? Where was the explosion? Is somebody hurt?!_

However, when she suddenly saw this spectacle she could not have imagined in her worst nightmares, she knew she had found the answer.

Flames.

Majestic flames, as high as a five-story building, overhung the rubble of what used to be... some sort of building. The frog's eyes widened. A couch was lying on the destroyed lawn, a few meters away from the fire. The couch used to be red, but it had been burned so badly that half of it was now black, thanks to the carbon. Next to the couch was a checkered tablecloth which had almost completely been consumed by flames. A bit further away lay the pieces of what used to be either a wardrobe or a bookshelf - either way, it had been reduced to little pieces of firewood, feeding the fire which had destroyed it.

An oh-so-terrible impression of deja vu appeared in Kaeloo's head. She stared at those three pieces of furniture with wide eyes, as if they had the answers to all her questions. And she was right. The origin of the terror which had awakened her with a bang, gotten her all the way here and frazzled her organs, was here, a few steps away from her. Other furniture, which had been rendered unrecognizable by the heat, was scattered randomly. Each of them was strewn all over the charred lawn, certainly swept away by the intensity of the explosion. So it was useless to mention all the vegetation and rocks which used to be the ceiling of what appeared to be an old underground tunne: they were the first to deplore.

It clicked on its own in her head. The image of a familiar living room, with a dilapidated couch covered with a checkered tablecloth, a big bookshelf full of books and an open kitchen with a table with a red table cloth on it...

Kaeloo felt her legs give way. The world spun around her, or maybe it was just her head.

There was only one house near hers. There was only one house with a big bookshelf and a big couch with a checkered cloth on it. There was only one underground building in Smileyland.

And it was a cat flap. Mr. Cat's cat flap.

– _**MISTER CAT!**_

That was the first time she screamed the cat's name with an emotion other than anger.

The first, and maybe the last

She may have been impacted strongly by the explosion, but Kaeloo still made a futile effort to stabilize her legs, which had been reduced to a wobbly mass, showing her helplessness.

 _"MISTER CAT!"_ she screamed again in a broken voice, her legs giving way. She took a few rapid, erratic breaths of polluted air and coughed them out. Maybe this helplessness was because of shock. She was having a panic attack for the first time in her life, at the worst possible moment. A fever, an emergency, what was next on this long list of misfortunes?! She repeated the process several times, while her eyes flooded with tears. The poisonous air which surrounded her invaded her lungs accentuated her pitiful state.

But she certainly wasn't just going to just sit there without doing anything when her friend obviously needed help. She wouldn't let this darn fever force her to abandon her responsibilities!

Her legs were betraying her? Alright! She flattened her belly on the ground and began to crawl like a tadpole towards the flames, not caring that the burning shreds spread by the flames were in contact with her bare skin. She couldn't walk? Okay, she'd crawl. She couldn't crawl either? She'd just keep screaming until someone heard her.

 _"MISTER CAT!"_ Her quiet voice seemed to crush all hopes that someone would hear her. And yet, she persisted and didn't give up, although her blurred vision openly showed her weakness.

She would do everything she could, no matter what the cost was, to reach Mr. Cat somehow, or at least make him aware of her presence. She wanted to tell him that she was there, by his side, wanting to join him and help him, but she was unable to. She didn't want to be an unworthy guardian who couldn't protect her friends. She didn't want to be a bad friend who only thought of herself, especially during a disastrous situation like this. She wanted to prove herself to her loved ones, especially Mr. Cat, who she had bitterly disappointed earlier. He had to still be alive.

A horrible bile, invisible but very palpable, settled in her throat at the mere thought of something like that.

No, Mr. Cat couldn't die. He shouldn't. He was the strongest and most resistant of all her friends! Sure, he'd be messed up, but he'd get out of this alive, wouldn't he?

Kaeloo started praying that cats really did have nine lives, even though it sounded stupid. Her prayer took on more meaning in her eyes when she heard the roar of the flames, as they shredded the furniture with their heat, preventing anyone from approaching. The crackling and the smell were horrible to endure, the atmosphere was becoming oppressive, and the heat was escalating the unbearable anxiety Kaeloo felt. She didn't know who to think of anymore. Mr. Cat? Herself? Her other friends?

She was terribly lost and in a lot of pain, both physically and mentally. Her head throbbed, and the body heat that allowed her muscles to move was leaving her little by little, because of her debilitating physical state. Also, she was pretty sure she'd broken all records in terms of anxiety levels. The little energy she had left was being consumed in lamentations. She wanted to help, but she could not. She had to intervene, but she could not.

And there is no feeling worse than wanting to do something but being unable to, because it gives birth to guilt.

Finally, God, as unfair and non-existent as he seemed in these moments, sent her a distinctive voice that she recognized very well:

– Quack !

She turned her head to see Quack Quack standing behind her, looking anguished and worried for her. He had some scratches here and there, but only superficial ones. He must have seen the flames from his bedroom. And in this horrifying situation, the duck seemed to her like a ray of light in a dark room, or a guardian angel. "O-..Oh, Quack-...Quack..." She saw him step forward valiantly to take her in his arms and get her as far as possible from the accident, and she felt safe in his arms, as would a child who, having become a prisoner of her nightmares, had clung to her mother for warmth and safety. But the roles were reversed here. Quack Quack was the parental figure, and Kaeloo was the traumatized child. Mr. Cat.

– QUACK...

– Quack Quack ! Mister - _CAT!_ she said between coughs. The carbon dioxide in the air was filling her lungs.

– Quack!

The gratitude and relief Kaeloo felt after hearing that "Quack", and the tears in her eyes which were now flowing freely, convinced her that Quack Quack would find the cat. The duck gently laid her on a big boulder about 50 meters from the fire. He gave her a first-aid kit and an apologetic look, suggesting that she would have to take care of herself, since he had to go save Mr. Cat and nobody knew where Stumpy was. He took off into the disaster zone. It was with momentary relief that she breathed a breath of air much cooler than the previous ones, albeit without feeling the benefits on her body. Her anxiety, again, blocked any proper access to her lungs.

She didn't have to worry about Quack Quack. If Mr. Cat had taught her anything useful about Quack Quack, it was the fact that the latter was completely indestructible and nothing could kill him, even fire. Sure, he'd have a few burn marks, but they'd only be superficial ones.

Mr. Cat, on the other hand... she winced. It was back again, that darn feeling of uselessness and fear. She could feel it in her heart, and in her stomach. She hated those two feelings - because to her, wanting to help someone but being unable to felt more like hypocrisy than incapacity. She lowered her head and bit her lip, trying to stop more tears from coming. The indignity of being their friend caused a lump to rise in her throat, which was growing like a tumor. She was not only the organizer of games and rules, but also the person responsible for establishing peace and happiness in this country. So why does she feel she has done this role in name only - that is, just telling people what to do and what not to do, and hitting others when they disobey her? Why did she feel like such a hypocrite, now that she could only sit in a corner and cry while her friend was getting hurt in a fire? Her body, through her inability to ignore a slight fever to save her best friend's life, seemed to physically transcribe her duplicity. In a more realistic, more painful way.

Mr. Cat was right after all. The words he had said had never made as much sense to her as they did now; now, she was getting a taste of her own medicine. She was nothing but a dirty hypocrite. She tried to portray herself as cute, cheerful and kind, but she only accomplished it halfway. She always found some excuse to escape from dangerous situations, even if it meant making her friends suffer all the consequences. To feel that she had monstrously failed in her duty, coupled with the horrible feeling that nothing would be the same as before after this accident , all because of her, made her violently shudder with guilt that flushed her feverish body. The only way to purge her of her sin was to bring back her friends. Safe and sound.

"Quack!"

The voice of her friend was like a wave that washed her panicking heart onto the shores of relief. She looked up, half-smiling, in the hope of finding her friends as she wished to see them again, safe and sound, and -

... And her happiness disappeared.

There were no adjectives to transcribe the emotions that assailed her so painfully and gradually, like a deadly venom spreading in her veins. What she saw was evidence of a fact: nothing would be the same anymore.

Ever since Bad Kaeloo had started beating Mr. Cat up, Kaeloo had seen the latter in a wide variety of different forms. He seemed very malleable; he had been compressed into a box, transformed into a book, reduced to a pile of ashes, squashed flat, or simply deformed a little (such as breaking an arm or leg). These grotesque, freaky forms were the fruit of Bad Kaeloo's barbarism, which showed itself whenever Mr. Cat was being annoying. However, whenever these things happened to Mr. Cat, he appeared to have the same regenerating powers as Quack Quack. Sure, he felt the consequences, but the very next day, he'd be completely healed and ready for more beatings. That was why Kaeloo, albeit somewhat upset by the pain she had caused him, never really hesitated to punish him for his little schemes. Lately, she'd even convinced herself that it was normal to hit him when he overstepped his bounds. And since the latter didn't seem to mind (in fact, he even seemed to enjoy it), they made these things their daily routine. He make her angry, she hits him, and they forget about it. That was pretty much the basis of their relationship.

But from the very moment she saw his body - no, the limp mass that was supposed to be his body - which Quack Quack held in his blackened arms as best as he could, her view changed. The first emotion which hit her wasn't worry, sadness or fear. It was remorse for the fact that, in one way or another, she had been responsible for damaging his body.

What could you possibly say? His orange fur was no longer visible, hiding by the dark carbon and the bloody wounds which stubbornly covered it. His eyes were closed in a calm, tranquil manner which was very worrying. His lips were frozen. And his skin... what skin? All that was left was a rigid surface, covered with deep injuries from which blood freely flowed out and dripped onto the ground, making repetitive, sickening sounds. But this fetid red and black concentrate was nothing compared to what she saw next. Quack Quack, seeing the tears in Kaeloo's wide eyes when she saw the cat's body, lowered his wet eyes to the ground. Oh, yes. He had noticed it too. He felt his heart skip a few beats, and breathing irregularly, he racked up the courage to look back up at Kaeloo. The frog had miraculously gotten up, as though the urgency of this situation had made her immune to the formerly immobilizing pain in her body. He watched her fearfully move her weakened legs in the direction of the cat. At the same time, both Kaeloo and Quack Quack felt their hearts shatter.

She looked over Mr. Cat's mutilated body with a pained expression, her eyes riveted to his lower back, and she finally stopped when she thought she'd had enough of looking at him. A second of silence. Then two. Then many more. A loud sob was heard, followed by feminine cries of pain.

Half of Mr. Cat's tail had disappeared, leaving only a bleeding stump.

– _**NOOO !**_ she sobbed. If she hadn't been sitting down already, she definitely would have collapsed. Quack Quack, whose eyes were starting to fill with tears, couldn't contain himself any longer after hearing his friend's heartbroken cry. He collapsed too, just like her, and he gently placed Mr. Cat's body on the ground. Unable to stand up after witnessing the abomination that she had just seen, Kaeloo crawled pitifully towards the feline's body. She placed her trembling hands on his cheeks, biting her lower lip so hard that it bled. Tears spilled out of her eyes, landing on the cat's sinisterly peaceful face. She was able to feel that his formerly soft fur had hardened, desecrated by the carbon.

– Mr. Cat... she murmured in a terribly sad, skeptical voice.

The mere mention of his name made her go into a crying fit. At her side, Quack Quack cried silently, still looking at the ground. He didn't even have the strength to go look for Stumpy anymore. At least, there was the good fact that the squirrel was probably having happy dreams, saving himself from this horrible, bloody spectacle. "That's actually a good thing," he tried to tell himself. Stumpy was the youngest, the most immature, and the most sensitive. He didn't need to be seeing this.

No child should be seeing things like this.

– No... not you...

Not him.

Not after everything they'd lived through. Not after that they'd said yesterday. Not after they'd just reconciled, no matter how small their reconciliation was. Not after all the effort they'd put into trying to integrate with each other. Not after the horrible past he'd lived through with his brothers and his father. Not after the pain she'd caused him. Not before he'd completely forgiven her. Not when she had just realized just how much he meant to her. How could life be so unfair to someone who had already suffered so many awful things at such a young age? Worse still, someone who had tried to let go of his past and move on in life?

"I..." Quack Quack half-opened his eyes to look at his friend, scrupulously holding onto the beginning of her sentence His eyes widened when he saw her skin. Formerly pale due to the fever, it was now gravitating towards a sickly yellow. Her face was traced with long red scratches. Her body danced to the rhythm of her perpetual sobbing.

"I'm..." she murmured between sobs.

 _Sorry?_ asked her conscience, in a voice dripping with sarcasm. _You're only realizing that now?_ She would like to tell her conscience "Better late than never!" in a desperate attempt to persuade herself, but it wasn't "late". She was already on the brink of "never". An irreversible, eternal "never", which closed the door to making choices and opened the door to consequences.

"If only..."

And while she was on the verge of continuing her laments and apologies, her thoughts suddenly brought back a memory that had almost nothing to do with the urgency of the situation. A memory from earlier was replaying itself over and over in her mind, until she collapsed on the ground.

 _It's always like this with you!_

She finally understood what the word "this" meant in that context: she never realized things until it was far too late. Mr. Cat was right, as usual, and she hated him for that - because he was always right about her. There were things she hadn't realized until the previous day; things that could have fixed all of their misunderstandings for years together; things whose value had been hidden from her eyes until now - when it was too late. And those things, so primordial in these most crucial moments, were her feelings for him. The fact that it was too late to understand, too late to be forgiven, too late to go to sleep feeling peaceful and forgiven.

What had been affirmed, in this chaotic and noisy ambiance, was what Kaeloo had had in her hands all these years: a key which could have resolved most of their problems and conflicts. A key which, if only it had been used, would have opened the way to a life where Kaeloo could happily play games, not just with Mr. Cat, but with all of her friends, both new and old. A key which rusted a little more every time they fought with each other. A key which, at the present moment, had been tossed into the flames which were destroying the cat flap.

 _When I try to make you see how I feel about you, you think I'm kidding and you go your way!_

She would definitely die of a heart attack if she went on like this. Her sadness, so great that she struggled to express it, tore at her chest with a saw, then pounded on her rib cage like a hammer. She could not even cry any more, grimacing under the pressure that was threatening to make her body explode. She was coughing noisily, pushing out the air which, blocked by her sobs, was struggling to enter her lungs. But she had to make do with the oxygen she could get, because to her, the breathing of her cat was more important than her own now. "This isn't funny, Mr. Cat!... Stop playing and get up!" she murmured in a pleading tone which carried a hint of hope, as though she thought he would actually get up. Maybe he was just joking. Maybe he was just faking it so that he could see her reaction. He was capable of doing such things after all, wasn't he?! He'd already manipulated her who-knows-how-many times, so why wouldn't he be doing it now? Maybe it was only a game!

 _Every time I pour my heart out to you, every time I try to confess to you, you push me away and take it for a fucking game!_

Only it wasn't a game.

And for once, she was the one putting her heart and soul into getting him to pay attention to her, and he indirectly rejected her by remaining unconscious. Their situation had been reversed in a way that was just as revelationary as it was cynical.

– I - I don't get it! H-he should be conscious! Reprimanded the frog blindly, as her body violently jolted. He always wakes up. He's lived through much worse! He'll do it again today, won't he, Quack Quack?!

She turned her head to her friend, letting their tearful gazes clash abruptly, while she waited for any agreement (even an untrue one) with her words.

But no.

Kaeloo knew he wasn't ready to wake up. Quack Quack knew that she was implicitly asking him to reassure her, to say something comforting, like a breath of fresh air to their suffocating throats. They both knew that Kaeloo's question was a rhetorical one. Therefore, Quack Quack didn't respond. He quietly looked back down at the ground. Maybe he'd realized that telling a lie would only cause them more pain. Kaeloo looked at him for a few more seconds, expecting at least a small gesture affirming her words. But he still didn't do anything. And his silence was even worse than the bad news she didn't want to hear. A few more tears spilled out of her large red eyes before she went back to contemplating her friend's mutilated body.

– Cats have nine lives, don't they?! She continued. Then why isn't he waking up?!

The implications of her words made the atmosphere a lot heavier. Mr. Cat had always remained conscious, no matter how badly she hurt him. Whatever the seriousness of his condition, he had always remained somewhat lucid, and calmly rested on his lawnchair after spending whole afternoons being beaten up. So why where his eyes so firmly closed this time?! Why wasn't he moving?! Why wasn't he screaming?! The pain must have been unbearable! The worst suppositions started forming in Kaeloo's head. She was exhausted.

"Qu-" She took in a deep breath of toxic air, which her lungs rejected. Every word seemed to be costing her a lot of energy. ''Quack Quack! He - We have to take Mr. Cat - to the hospital! ''

– Quack!

The indestructible bird rushed towards the cat, gently letting go of Kaeloo. He picked up the feline's wrist and instructed Kaeloo not to make any movements that could distract him - the crackling of the flames was bad enough. Seconds passed as the duck made no sound at all, holding his friend's hand in his trembling palm. Kaeloo, who was watching, seemed to be suffering more and more with each passing second where her friend was NOT at the hospital receiving life-saving treatment. She wanted to yell at Quack Quack to hurry, but she didn't dare disturb him. She wanted to hear something good in the middle of all this terror.

–Quack!

(His heart is still beating.)

And Kaeloo felt her own heart start beating again. Maybe there was the slightest shadow of hope on the horizon.

Smileyland had never been meant to be a modern city with devices deemed necessary for the health and well-being of its inhabitants. Far from the strange magic which governed it, it was just like a continent which was covered from end to end with green pastures. There were a few mountains and caves here and there, and a beach a few hours away, but the principal environment in which its inhabitants played games was green and had fresh air. It was a friendly little place, very different from the urban nature of the city of Broadway and its buildings surrounded by various stores with neon lighting. Also, Smileyland, in its integrity, did not satisfy the requirements for a "regular life"; there were no schools, hospitals or law enforcement. It was a land created for playing games. The classrooms and medications which were available had been created for playing, and they weren't suited for serious, real life situations.

All of this was because of a reason which was very simple, but also in a sense very disturbing: the inhabitants of the place weren't supposed to die, or be in danger of imminent death. Naturally, Smileyland was a place created for children and preteens to have fun and play games despite their personal stories. Pain and suffering, although they were a part of everyday life for these kids, never killed anyone. There was an invisible magic or an incomprehensible law keeping them alive. For example, Kaeloo and Stumpy, who only had one life each, had lived through things which logically would have killed anyone else. Sometimes they seemed to have actually succumbed to these things, but they always came back to life thanks to events which were as comical as they were irrational. Nobody, except (maybe) Kaeloo, seemed to understand how life and death worked in this place - and they didn't really care either. To them, definite death didn't exist.

Or at least, it didn't feel like it existed.

Until now.

"What do you mean, you don't have the facilities to deal with urgent cases? Is this a joke? You operated on that squirrel the other day, didn't you?" "Baa!" The ground could have started trembling from the frog's angry scream. She raised her arms in a scandalized gesture, her gaze darkened and bloodshot, and her complexion extremely pale. At her side, Quack Quack supported Mr. Cat on his shoulders, swaying dangerously from the weight. Nothing had gone the way they had wanted it to. They had hurried to the nearest hospital, the one they had taken Stumpy to when he had fallen sick because of Ursula. But the sheep doctor there had explained to them that he didn't have the necessary equipment or knowledge for a serious situation like this. He seemed to be reexplaining to them nervously (and for what was apparently the umpteenth time) that the hospital was only responsible for minor injuries, where it was known for sure that the patient would live. A case where a cat was trapped in a state between life and death could not be taken care of, because the sheep doctor would probably get fired if he did die - and because it was a violation of the rules of Smileyland, where things like this were not customary.

Evidently, Kaeloo was not going to listen. Her fatigue had been consumed by a dull anger, while she had bent over the poor sheep.

– This is INADMISSIBLE! It's your JOB, for goodness' sake! If you won't help this poor cat, who will you help?!

– Baa! Replied the sheep negatively, as he recoiled in fear. Kaeloo was approaching him with furious steps, as though she was going to jump at his throat.

– I don't want to hear anything! Listen here, I'm the guardian of this place, and I order you to do whatever you can for Mr. Cat, OR ELSE… !

Sparks suddenly burst from the frog's feverish body, as though lightning was striking her skin, and her tiny biceps began growing. Faced with the prospect of an imminent transformation, the bespectacled sheep staggered backwards until he hit the wall. He closed his eyes as he saw the frog raise her muscular arm above his head, awaiting the fatal blow that could end both his career and his life... but it never came. The sound of electricity stopped instantly, and there was complete silence around the would-be victim, who slowly opened his eyes. His eyes widened and he dropped to the ground, frightened by the sight of a fist that was only inches from his face. When he looked up to see what had saved him from certain disfigurement, he discovered the duck. His yellow hand was firmly gripping the wrist of the frog, who had now detransformed. She stared with equally wide eyes, as though she was shocked to realize what she had been abut to do. The cat had been left on the couch, unconscious, as drops of blood flowed softly from his body and landed on the carpet, dirtying it.

A scene like something out of an emotional movie.

"I... I'm..." She went silent, unable to process what had happened. Adrenaline, stress, fever, fatigue, worry, guilt ... it was too much for her mind. Maybe Quack Quack and the doctor understood, because they remained silent. Then, the doctor, still back up against the wall, said something:

– Baa!

– You'll try your best, then… ?!

The frog's eyes lit up with joy. She rushed to the doctor and held his hooves in her hands. He confirmed it with another bleat.

And for the first time, Kaeloo burst out sobbing. For the entire duration of the journey, she had wept silently and then quickly wiped away her tears, forcing herself to keep whispering comforting words to her unconscious friend. She had surpassed herself on every level-she had just managed to walk next to the cat. But when she had thought she had seen Mr. Cat breathe his last in this waiting room, with his right to life being taken away by a bunch of sheep who claimed to be "kind" because of a stupid rule, she just had to succumb to a definitive misanthropy - or maybe it was depression. She had had to go through a lot in a really short time span. She usually forced a smile and tried to spread positive vibes around her, even when she felt negativity in its purest form, but this was just too much - she had lived through an explosion, seen the mutilated, bleeding body of her best friend (who still hadn't forgiven her), and almost seen him die. Between sobs, she even wondered who her tears were for: for Mr. Cat, or for herself.

Quack Quack supported her as well as he could on her shaking feet while the sheep in question had already gone to tell his assistants to bring all their equipment.

"Quack Quack..." She clearly hadn't recovered from all the smoky air she had inhaled, for she bent her head violently, coughing more than ever. The bird squatted beside her, ready to help her in any way, and laid a feverish hand on her back while he placed the other on her arm, telling her to rest on an armchair in the room. She refused, remaining where she was at, at the corner of the wall.

"As soon as possible... we have to find out who did this."

His eyes widened.

Who had done this?

Until now, he hadn't thought of this simple question. He had been drowning because of the huge waves of stress of the last hour, so he had not taken the time to rise to the surface and breathe a little pragmatism. It was all about adrenaline, speed and strong emotion: from the moment he stopped eating his midnight yogurt snack upon hearing the blast, right up to the moment he was crouching by the frog. Kaeloo's question was like a torch, guiding him in the fog of his thoughts.

Naturally, explosions didn't just happen. At the moment, he could only think of two hypotheses, both of which were equally visceral: it was an accident, like a gas leak, or the crackling flame of a lit cigarette making contact with one of the cat's missiles, or it was a murder attempt. They were both equally possible.

But as horrible as it sounded, the first seemed ridiculously unrealistic. For his entire life, Mr. Cat had owned several weapons, some of which were more dangerous than others. He had all kinds of them: bazookas, missiles, bombs that could be detonated just by pressing a button... and many others which Quack Quack was subjected to on a daily basis. Therefore, if an accident were to talk place, it would have happened long ago, when he was still inexperienced. Besides, he was much too clever and perspicacious to be clumsy enough to do something like that. ALso, he usually stayed up all night, so he would have been able to smell a gas leak well before the explosion. Another worrying element was that Mr. Cat had several cat flaps scattered around Smileyland, which were a reasonable distance away from each other and often hidden in random places such as boulders or bushes. It would be nigh impossible to locate them. So how come the explosion happened at the exact flap where the cat was sleeping and not somewhere else? How come the culprit, if there even was a culprit, knew the exact place where Mr. Cat would be? Even he and Stumpy didn't know the location, so the cat was practically untraceable; he slept in a different one every night.

And most of all, what was the culprit's motive for doing this?

For sure, Quack Quack knew that not everybody liked Mr. Cat; everyone in Smileyland had been subjected to some misfortune because of him and his despicable personality - but he had observed that they were all used to it, and they ended up telling themselves that it was just the way he was. Anyway, none of them were better than the others; all of them had a dark, violent side. Mr. Cat just happened to be the one who showed his the most. Despite this, nobody had made a concrete attempt to take revenge on him.

However, in terms of potential enemies, Quack Quack could narrow the suspects down. Pretty claimed to be in love with Mr. Cat even though he clearly hated her and didn't love her back. Was this her way of expressing her frustration at not being able to have him? The duck didn't know. Then there was Olaf, who -

Olaf. What if it was him? After all, an explosion in the middle of a freezing cold night seemed right up his must have taken advantage of the guardian's weakened state to put his world domination plans into action, and decided to start by getting rid of his most hated enemy.

But... on the other hand, Quack Quack was fairly certain that Olaf wouldn't do something so sadistic. Sure, he might have tried it when he first arrived in Smileyland, but recently, he'd practically become their friend. He seemed to hate them less than he used to, he participated in some of their games, and he had even asked for their help a few times. His "emperor of the world" speeches weren't as authoritarian as before, and he even seemed to display a desire to protect the inhabitants of Smileyland (as long as they cooperated with him). Besides, Olaf wasn't the type to attack an enemy behind their back - if he wanted to attack someone, he'd do it directly.

No ... the person in charge of all this had a much more unhealthy desire ... if Olaf had wanted to kill Mr. Cat, he would have done it in one blow. But the culprit here seemed to want to torture him. Quack Quack was ready to bet that this murderer had planned it out so that even if the feline survived, he would have to suffer from severe physical and psychological harm.

Quack Quack sighed sadly at the thought of what his friend would have to go through when he woke up...

If he ever woke up.

The reality of the situation hit him like a truck. He felt a light weight on his shoulder. Kaeloo had given up and was now sitting on the chair, no longer trying to see the state of her friend, who was still lying on the couch unconscious. She hugged her knees to her chest. Her face was like a sad painting, splattered with pale colors, because of all the negative emotions she had been feeling. She was exhausted. She stared at the wall in front of her, dull and expressionless. SHe was far too tired to express anything. Quack Quack didn't do anything to make her get up. The ground was cold and maybe dirty, and she was sick and terribly exhausted, but none of that mattered. He silently supported her, putting a hand on her arm.

– How are we going to tell Stumpy?"

He gave her a cautious look, hearing her dismal tone. Never had her voice been so feeble; even in the worst of situation, her words were always tinged with emotion. But there was nothing now. The indifference left the duck's face as he sadly shook his head, causing a slight friction against her burning forehead.

– Quack (We'll explain it to him the next time we see him.

– I know, but... how am I going to explain what happened? The poor thing is going to be so scared... I don't even know what words to use to tell him that Mr. Cat isn't -

The sound of many feet on the floor drew their attention. A horde of sheep carrying a stretcher rushed towards Mr. Cat. Some of them tried their best to use their little hooves and their heads to lift him onto the stretcher while others put an oxygen mask on his face. Kaeloo, who couldn't see her friend because there were so many sheep in the way, wanted to get up and follow the flock, but Quack Quack held her back by the shoulder. She was too tired and weak to fight him. The only thing they could do now was hope.

Two things were going to happen in the near future: Stumpy's arrival and the result of the operation. And neither of them were going to be more pleasant than the other.

 _... TO BE CONTINUED ..._


End file.
